I think sometimes that I am in flight.
I soar through the powerfully free sky, enveloped in blue.
My arms are wings to aid in my escape to the freedom of the heavens.
My flight is like a dream, it lacks a start, and an end.
The air, so warm and sweet caresses my face with a gentle breeze, when I change my path, and the air grows frigid and unpredictable.
It’s the exhilaration of the fear.
I have no recollection of this past life I led, except for the smell of my old home, which lingers in the back of my mind.
A place I wish at times I could return to.
I am a hawk, at once peaceful and dangerous in my flight.
The more I discover as new to myself, I realize that it has been here for me all along, waiting for me to arrive.
The air that surrounds me, it smells of sweet kisses and soft words that save me from falling from the sky.
My flight has led me to freedom.
I remember the stars that guided me here, but I don’t need them anymore.
