Paper Plane Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

Paper plane, fragile architect of childhood dreams,
folded hope, creased ambition, a fleeting geometry against the sky.

Not metal, not roaring engine, just the whisper of a breath,
a delicate defiance of gravity's heavy hand.

We launch you from rooftops, from classroom windows,
from the precipice of 'what if, ' each fold a silent prayer,
each arc a measure of our own untethered yearning.

Do you dream, paper bird? Of distant winds, of unseen shores?
Or is your flight merely a surrender, a graceful descent to the inevitable ground?

A crumpled landing, a silent crash, the end of a brief odyssey.
Yet, in that frail form, a universe unfolds:

The weight of intention, the sharp edge of possibility,
the ephemeral beauty of a moment caught between release and return.

We smooth you out, sometimes, trace the creases,
try to recapture the magic, the impossible lift.

But paper remembers. Each fold a scar, each journey a ghost.
And the next plane, though similar, will carry a different wind,
a new set of hopes, a fresh, unwritten ending.