Waiting To Fly

Not enough fingers and toes to track or organize
the beautiful stories that pulse through my soul,
Feeding my famished ambition, and supporting my floating dreams.
In times of monotony and strife, I sense vivid colors,
whirling patterns, true love, and a lost soul found.
Beauty that's suffocating, and landscapes that liberate.
Truth written on the trunks of trees, and prayers lining the clouds,
my experience in paradise saves my life.
Each time I suck in-stealing sweet honeysuckle away from the sky.
Creating thoughts so much bigger than this life we have,
So much bigger than me and you.
A rare, widespread ocean of opportunity,
constantly wailing for my attention, begging for my future.
Hot pavement burning my feet,
the air full of yellow, collecting on my body as I own the street.
Skipping with the breeze.
Just floating through life.
Allowing nonesene to replace reality.
Waiting for freedom.
Waiting for wide open spaces.
Wind in my hair, miles passing under my seat.
The sun casting the longest shadows all year.
Preparing to take off.
Waiting to Fly.