Longing

Poetry

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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