Gully Foyle in the Ice

When I was young
I climbed the cliffs of Denmark
Spying elves in every copse.
In the mist, I was one.

On limbs I climbed above the clouds
Youthful, I trampled spires of ice
Which, innocent, shattered on the ground
But then I saw the pane:

A frigid window of ice
Born of a web
Shining tall among the shards.
As I watched, it fell,
Its might undermining.

Later, I read a book -
It told me that all leaders
Are freaks, born of
Imperfection.

Ben Finkel
April 29th, 2007