A Beautiful Delusion

I lived atop a pillar these last nine months
It's fluted scrolls rising above, kissing clouds,
The stately straightness of its vision lifting me to fantasy heights.
Expecting the necessary contractions of birth,
Ready,
Eager,
Instead, the quiet reckoning of a stillborn dream listlessly
Dangles over the edge.
The eagle's nest is abandoned,
The perch a delusion,
But the remnant fog in my lungs is a
Painful gift.