Longing

Writing

Restless,
Questing,
Aching for freedom from the confines of flesh.
The wind rushes and whistles and moans through the swaying trees.
The hawks float and dive and soar –
Weightless,
Effortless,
Serene.
How I long to join them –
My chest pulls with the desire.
To be a shadow,
Borne on the breeze;
An inky rippling against crisp blue and dazzling white.
To be free.

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