Our Saga, In Words

Across the ground I drag myself, my hands and feet in the soft soil
All while looking to the sky, and dreaming of flying
I grasp for the firmament, upon which I can steady myself, and ascend

Across the canvas my hands move, searching, spreading, sketching
I create, then destroy, then find myself compelled to create again

They mocked me, after hearing me declare
“I will find the source of motion, I will grasp my laurels of victory”

Now I will recount my tale as athlete, as artist
Listen.