Freedom

                
I flexed my wings and liked how it felt. I soared up into the heavens to be at peace, mostly with myself. Gently I coasted on my back, my feathered appendages, the strongest part of me, carrying me along the currents of air. The clouds were moist I where brushed them, circling the world. I didn't see much permanent life existing in the atmosphere. It seems ridiculous now but...hope doesn't sound so bad these days. I turned floating strait, my heels pointing down toward the ground, the illusion of standing firm, and I gazed at the sun. My days burn with sun and sky and my nights with star and moon. One gets used to things. The lonely body    compensates and boys grow into men. Death is not the end.