a winged existence
slowly collecting from every experience
a lifetime of questions as feathers I have
fashioned a colorful plumage on my back
my stillness and wonder has sharpened me a beak
that has pecked me free from the restraints of emotion,
thought and identity that make up my human cage
I, left with a weightless body,
empty mind, jump off
my cliff of control, start soaring,
propelled faster and further, gliding
by the wind of my heart’s cravings
and the gust of my soul’s knowings.
__________________________________________
The phrase winged existence got weaved in my mindscape by Sam Keen and his book ‘Learning to fly’. I name this poem with his phrase as a deep bow to his beautiful words and life.
Thumbnail Photo by DESIGNECOLOGIST on Unsplash