TO FLY HIGH

To fly, I ought to have wings.

Not only wings, I say, but freedom too.

How can I flip and flap when I’m weighed down

by the evils of the past?

How can I soar above when I’m controlled

by troubles that haunt me to the last?

How can I glide, drift and float in the air

when my wings are tied and my soul is tired?

_________

Quick, cut the ropes!

I need to zoom in the azure sky.

I want to rise to the clouds, touch the mountains high

The power is with limit now,

and the sun is soon to rest.

Curtain call - not for long - then, I must take a bow.

__________

(A poem I wrote just now to express my sentiments. Thanks to Marco for the image above.)