A Way of Being Free

I will find my way back with

moments on my right wingspan

stories on my left

Home will be somewhere above the clouds

where I shoulder nothing but beauty

I’d whistle my welcome from trees older than

all the lifetimes I hope to have but

I honour this one where

I bird play nothing but my part

a speck in the universe of things

without a name

free of the burden of dreams

or how to live them

gliding through my numbered days

wondering how I ever lived

without full feathered freedom