...

I am Flying Away.

Something has loosened its meticulous hold on my edges

and like a careless garment I am Flying Away.

The place that raised me dissipates me 

and ushers me silently pineward saying, 

fearfulness, you are fearsome forever the sum

of a silent and mystical equation

strongest when broken, strongest when 

breathing, oblivious, taking in sun or streaming 

rain, strongest Every Moment, lovely and 

natural. 

The only part of myself for keeping is the 

finger of fire in my chest and not forever.

All else is shirked and shed as minutes.

All else is shook like snow from my jacket.

And I no longer speak a language of Despites. 

To think that not long ago I felt that 

I was Flying Away. 

I am familiar with this relationship between 

space and nearness. The lost drowning feeling 

of being far from the still surface of a moment,

of glassy gentle waves evading me or my body. 

I am familiar with strange newness rendered

casual and known.

I am not familiar with the moment beyond 

this moment, 

but the moment when the charged 

roiling stops- 

I am familiar with it