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.