Monday, November 9, 2009

Flight Of Dreams

The clouds are huge puffs
of fine white pillow stuffing.
That's what I believe.

They float in the sky,
slowly, lazily almost,
because there's no rush.

The wind is quite strong.
It's God's never-ending breath,
swirling around us.

He/ She /It /They blow
on the clouds, pushing them all
across the big blue.

The clouds' destiny
is a mystery that's been
hidden from humans.

But someday I will
fly to the clouds, higher up
than anybody.

I'll shoot hero-like,
straight as an arrow so fast,
that I'll hardly breath.

I won't look down as
I slice through the air, focused
instead on my goal.
Finally I'm there,
hovering beside my cloud,
and I climb on it.

It makes the softest
bed you'll ever know in life.
It supports my weight.

Curious, I peek
over the edge of my puff.
Do my eyes deceive?

Below are mountains,
oceans and trees, and many
tiny points of light.

My world is wondrous,
and I'm high above it all!
Well, not entirely.

My heart is still down
on Earth, with a friend I miss.
I must go back home.

I jump off the cloud
with no fear whatsoever.
Life is but a dream.

God's wind lets me drift
very gently down, as if
I were a feather.

You see me falling,
but you're in time to catch me
in your waiting arms.
I open my eyes,
see the happy way you look
at me, and I smile.

We lie in a field
much softer than any cloud,
and we're holding hands.

My head still goes up
in the sky sometimes, but I'll
never leave you, friend.

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