Frauds are never Free

I’m a fraud straddling the fence between wild and tame.
 
I’m not courageous enough to run free.
And I’m not content enough to enjoy the sanity of shelter in peace.
 
Who am I?
Who have I been?
 
What is joy?
(why does mine feel like sin?)
 
I miss the mess....
 
I miss the muddy heart I used to have,
 
running alone barefoot through forest during a summer thunderstorm, and convinced that the rain was speaking to me in scared geometry.
 
This was me.
 
I chased the patterns and counted down the thunder.  
 
I saw Creation unraveling in rainbow particles.
 
The breathing zero points
The flower of life patterns
Fibonacci sequence
Toroidal flow
Golden ratio
 
(I’ve chased understanding this spiral for as long as I can remember....)
 
And I realize I’ve done this EXACT thing many times as a child.
 
I felt blessed and also very very lonely.
(It’s the irony of feeling one with everything temporarily).
 
When you fly that high, the only way to go is back down.
 
Back down to earth,
back to bed,
back to this head,
Hanging half-assed on a white picket fence.
 
And ankles held by chains that lead back to my bed.
 
The keys are in my hand, as I stare back out into the forest.