The Flying Word


I am a street between trees,
Leading nowhere in between,

I am a sea glistening wide,
While mountains soar by,

I am a silence of dreams,
With clouds in its seams,

Shaping vivid forms, and colors.

Telling the story of what time means,
When they will twirl forever.

I am a mind that sees, and eyes that weep, for ugly and beauty alike,
and all I can do it seems, is share, comment, or like.

For the world you see, is a mad place
where the wisest are those who are dumb,
and the dumbest of those are capable,
of putting the world under a thumb.

But here I fly all over this mess, and noise seems ever so faint,
that the higher I soar away from this earth, the deeper I know my place

I am smaller than a grain of sand, floating in a universe of seas.

And here I pretend to be so grand,
I am right and I will lead.

So fly.

Ever more, ever high.
Light years and eons away,

Till I am no more and of not, yet I am even of this place.






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