grounded

we have all had that one dream:

falling up or falling down,

drifting through the sky,

plummeting into clouds.

we have bounced on wisps of nothing

and skipped over hills of cotton candy.

the horizons stretch a long distance,

one where travelers must dash hurriedly.

but the clouds are not strong,

not strong enough to carry our weight

or pull us back down

or push us back up.

so we ricochet to the sun,

the gleaming orb of light.

it warms the glow off our cheeks,

and its force holds us tight.

but the sun burns too bright,

bright enough to singe fingertips,

our nails of coal,

our knuckles of sand.

the force exerts us through the blur,

through the streaks of white against navy.

here we have arrived,

hovering above the silver orbit with glee.

but the man in the moon takes one glance

and wants nothing to do with us,

with heavy hearts,

with charred souls.

if the past repeats, 

efforts are wasted while we roam.

so he turns a blind ear and deaf eyes

as we tread lightly on the path home.

but you gazed over your shoulder

where your toes made contact with the ground,

the emerald grass,

the fields of spring pastel.

freedom does not glance back,

for who would, once free?

now, i am just me,

the one with anything but dreamless sleep.