13/6/2017 A piece about life, control and attachment
This paper aeroplane
whipped from my soft, pink hands
by vicious winds.
I tethered myself to it,
to my plane,
fragile and rare as my hopes
and all the care I invested in its creation...
I tethered myself,
a gossamer string of soul linking us,
stretching out and away
as my plane sailed further and further
into the blue and tarnished sky.
My own blue turned upwards,
to grey and purpling covers,
like quilts pulled to the chins of the gods.
Thunder claps threaten my paper craft,
lightnings jab and tear at my gossamer thread...
yet we remain attached,
though ever so far apart.
I will my sight to its prow
so that I may journey with it,
so I may see what it sees...
far, distant and strange lands,
clearing skies and purest air.