Windswept

Aloft upon a single fluttering vision,

a moth heart in dreamy gossamer form

tries to escape on a wisp in utopian inspiration

from the pressed lips in pressurized presumption.

 

Feeling trapped upon a cerebral cerulean sky

painted by the brush strokes of social artistry,

where life’s canvas is crafted by definitions

instead of the windswept feel in creativity.

 

Tinker Bell thoughts thread a timbre of teasing tones,

rippling through the tendons in tenuous touches,

stretching the mind’s eye towards the stars

while wishing their mystery would engrain

some stardust radiation upon reality.

 

Chasing euphoria’s zephyr breeze

across the concrete landscape,

hoping it will somehow truly endow with wings

to soar before the approaching asphalt paths.

 

Impossible is the wall seen within the head,

building bricks made of “can’t,”

struggling to deny its presence

by thinking of flights beyond limitations,

riding them to realms

rich in the textures of serene hues

where one doesn’t have to merely dream

to feel more than an airy essence

upon time’s sprawling script.

 

Exhaling what has burdened

while trying to focus

so the frail creature who dwells inside

might become the flesh without fear,

willing to stop shrinking into the shadows

at last allowing oneself

a chance to truly travel

where abilities can go

when not withered by excuses.