I am about to fly away, but I keep stopping and looking back.
I wonder why taking flight is causing me so much hesitation.
I hear the wind in my ears, calling to me, waiting for me to join into the sky.
I see the birds going away and I wish that I could honestly soar.
I want to fly away.
I am leaving. Soon.
I pretend that I’m already in the blue blue sky.
I feel the puffy clouds surrounding me.
I touch them and smile happily.
I worry that I’ll fall, the opposite of fly because I seem to do that often.
I cry because of that chance, that chance of failing. But…
I am in the cerulean now with high spirits.
I understand that running, flying away, for fear is childish yet I continue on.
I say nothing for the distance speaks all for me.
I dream of being far above ground forever 'cause it’s where I want to stay.
I try to hang on, keep going, but it just doesn’t seem rational.
I hope that I can be here for eternity, towering over everything.
I am flying away. And I’m not glancing back.