Something Else

Contribute myself to whimsy of air
Is what I do resting restlessly where
I happen to be as a wing in wind
That lifts me, pushes me, keeps me afloat

I know but little in passing of me
This glint of light, of hope and desire
In migration 'tween never forever 
Magnetic poles of imagination

The word is the wandering of wonder
It may think it holds a course where it goes
But then it veers, sheers, it diverts itself
Claims to refine itself, then hears its jeers

A word likes itself and likens itself
To itself, until sung, it’s something else