Flying

There’s no one left to stop me now.

I’m high up in the air.

I can see clouds beyond clouds

with the sunshine so fair.

There’s things to do and sights to see.

Yet I’m stuck with my ink,

thoughts fly like birds in front of me.

I jump up and catch them before I sink.

Anything can happen in this empty space

when all sounds are white.

All you hear is all you face,

pure clouds higher than the highest kite.

I know they are here,

the angels among the sky.

They sing songs we cannot hear

unless we have wings to fly.

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