Of the air

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17/12/2016 A dream that everyone has had... to fly...

I watch the ball soar,

filled with air,

a thin skin

the only difference between

inside and out.

 

The boot that kicked it

swings high,

scribing an arc of power

with limitation,

of flesh and bone...

 

I long to be the ball,

to fly as if it were

my only purpose,

my sole reason for being.

I long to fly...

 

I wish to own the sky,

as an eagle,

or the sun.

I want to know everything before

and beneath me.

 

I want the air to bear me,

like dreams and wishes

and dandelion seeds

blown by idle lips...

and dreaming of tomorrow.

 

 

 

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