On Flying

I am flying higher than I thought 
my wings could
and I see the old me below, 
left further and farther away,
with each soar I learn to trust my feathers
becoming the faithful wind underneath
and I start clearly seeing the highest sky
as my rightful realm

So I soar, soar, soar, 
higher, even higher
entering outerspace
leaving behind 
and beneath, 
even my sky-domain.

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Photo by Zac Ong on Unsplash

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