Wings
Where are your wings? What do they look like? How do they fly? Does the rhythm of each flap match the beat of your heart? Do you take flights of fancy, or journeys of sorrow? Are your wings free, or are they caged? Locked down to earth, or rustling to the slightest flow of new wind? How far can they take you, or rather, how far do you want to go with them? And where? To the peaks of glory, or towards the dawn of serenity? Are they broken? Barely bandaged by your resolve, in need of the tenderness of loving care to rise again? Or are they growing? Stretching, reaching, as if to grab the skies they encompass. Waiting for the day you take flight, towards destinations grander than all of us are able to perceive…
