Flight of the Petrarch

No immortal hand—mind’s eye created--

This wild unaeried creature on the fly.

Mind-forg’d it rose--self-emancipated--

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi to the sky.

It might be likened to an eruption--

Or tocsin's raucous bellowing ringing sound--

Then the apoplectic cry, "Corruption!"

As its tortured quatrains are turned around.

Beginnings haven't certain ends in sight--

One smooth passage can't promise another--

Yet behold the Petrarch on its first flight--
Rising freely from its earthbound mother.

Reimagine the Phoenix, the Pegasus--
Imagine then a newborn world for us.