Ascension Poem by Richard Betts

In my sleep, I see the people,
Leaping into the blueness of the sky.
But none of them begin falling,
They sprout wings and begin to fly.

The people glide and gently float,
And gravity they defy.
Rather than plummet to us below,
They turn to the heavens and slowly rise.

Perhaps they are there to survey our horizon,
And serve as our saviors, our protection.
I watch as they disappear,
To the pinnacle of their ascension.