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We can be nothing,
label-free,
defying definition,
and be
everything.

Come fly
with me,
fear not
the fall;
we never have
to land at all.

We’ll rise,
we’ll dip,
we’ll plummet,
we’ll soar,

sun-singe our wings
and touch
the ocean floor.

Flight

There is a certain trust

that is birthed, it seems,

when we let go of those things,

the ones,

we are not meant to be gripping,

for the wind cannot carry

that which is so willfully tethered.

If we simply allow ourselves

to float and let go,

all that is meant for us individually

will work itself out.

I am in no hurry

and my hands are empty,

the pace and weight required, I think,

to be light enough to be picked up

by the breeze.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Pilot

I decide

where and when

I go

next.

I’ve always had wings

but never realized

I, alone,

am the pilot.

Flight

The flock of birds that appeared during the rising of the song I was listening to on my morning walk really moved me…

Love, music, nature

all seem to strum the same inner strings,

playing different chords, forming

melodies that make the heart hum

and the soul sing.

As the birds in formation burst forth to meet the sun,

so my heart and soul leap up to follow,

but this body, for now, keeps my core anchored,

like a planet with a burning center

that longs to flow,

free.