PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

To only hear the fair beating of the wings.  To only feel the air brush against my hand.  If I could take a part of it with me, that would be something.  Unfortunately it seems as if I am to keep the moment hidden forever within my secret bookcase.  Every time I try to hold it back it only lunges out further.  Every time I try to let it go, it only holds on more strongly than before.  Do I have to experience the fleeting moment at least once to feel the emptiness when it is gone?  Have I had the pleasure of knowing that for one second of my life, I held it in my hands?  When the clouds fell down around me, I saw no light at the end of the tunnel.  I only heard the distant cry of happiness as it poured through the shallow crack in the air.  When the feather fluttered lazily to the ground, I tried not to catch it.  I stood there helpless as time stood still and clocks ticked away as if not noticing the magic that was engulfing my every thought.  It was there that the words failed to come out of my mouth.  It was then that the sudden flash of purity flew by me like the bird who’s feather now shared my company.  A swift brush with life that left me before I had a chance to experience the full chastity in which it sprang from.  The dense fog that clouded my mind had only begun to blind the thoughts of a reality-based cry for hope.  A simple plea for escape from where I was meant to be.  Is this a blatant disregard for simple rules that bind us to the ground?  Was my soul’s attempt at self-righteous blasphemy justified by the childish hope for a better end?  Now it matters not, only because I have forgotten whether I was a part of the prison break.  I can not envision such a feather reaching the utmost standing for freedom after living so long without the dark confines of gravity.  Maybe the limitless sky had never been so kind, to the slave that paddled the ship through the sea, as I once thought.  The constant fear of being helplessly crushed and swept away at any given moment must present a certain relief.  Majestic courses might not have the ocean of invulnerability that captivates our young minds and entices us to strive for leadership.  Is a stable place of residency that important to the outcast of the tight knit group?  Do all travel-laden lives endure the experiences in such dire hopes that one day it will all come to an end?  In part they do, but never to the full extent that their depressive souls lead them to believe.  Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding that caused an illuminating participant to lose everything that truly did spark the fire of happiness.  In any case, I still do not have the moment locked away.  I do not have the memory of achieving that often sought after high of fulfilling one’s dream.  I never received the satisfaction my heart has been looking for.  I still have nothing.