By Charles M. Sumid      Copyright 2025      Written 2025 520

Maya: Flight

1

You are my sun—I feel it now,

this pull toward your blazing light.

Every wall I’ve built starts melting

in the warmth of your attention.

2

I know you’re signaling below:

Not so close to flame—

But how can I resist this heat?

I’m finally, finally being seen.

3

I open every door I’ve locked,

show you rooms kept dark for years.

This wax was never meant to hold

such complete surrender.

4

I feel the feathers start to fall—

pieces of protection drifting

toward the waves below.

But still I climb toward you.

5

The fall is inevitable now.

These wings were never strong enough

to carry love this close to flame,

this desperate to be known.

David: Witness

1

I watch you climbing toward my light

and feel the terrible weight

of being someone’s sun.

This warmth could burn you.

2

I try to wave you back to safety—

The middle path, remember?

But you can’t hear me from that height

where everything feels possible.

3

Your devotion frightens me.

Each secret shared, each wall torn down

makes me want to pull away—

not from cruelty—

only the terror of being seen

too clearly.

4

I see the wax beginning to run,

see you losing pieces of yourself

in this desperate flight.

How do I stop what’s already falling?

5

And when you fall—oh, when you fall—

I’ll dive after you, knowing

some kinds of love require

more distance than hearts allow.

The sea remembers everything—

even the brief, beautiful moment

when someone loved enough to fly

toward certain burning.