In a deep corner of your mind, you know what is to come.
The burning tension, searing a hole clear through your conscious.
Your senses sharpen as bundles of muscle, hard as iron, tense up under your skin
Sun beating down on your back as you survey the vista before you.
Miles of nothing but concrete jungle
Instincts displace reason, instincts displace fear.
Instincts make your moves.
You smile as your grind the balls of your feet against the roof tiles
You sling yourself into a crouch, sniffing the air, feral, alert
Now or never, you tell yourself as you break into a dead sprint
The wind runs through your hair, fire sears your lungs.
Sailing through the air, your soul is freed from earthly bondage.
Liberation.
Flight.

Note: This was my aborted .org writing contest entry, which I couldn't condense to under 1,500 words. So I turned it into a poem.