oh to be like the birds soaring above my eyes my mind unable to fathom their distances. the way they speak to the moonlight dovetail in the glow of sun they are free. sweet freedom is something i dream of and feel so far away from. how can we believe we are free when clearly our livelihoods are dictated by social expectation? there is no place to basque under sun rays until the clouds cover and turn cold. no place to save your iced tea beside a lamp in your front lawn to circulate air until the pigeons stop playing. no fountain the hummingbird could drink from in blissful pace no restful place to watch them take dives in and out of fancy. freedom is an understated religion where sanctity blesses the skin of my being enclosing me in days of tantric eye feasts. breath unending in its sweetness grace of truest life.
Because it exists and so do I...