i have flown in a plane and i hated it,
but when i look towards the birds i can't help but to want to join them

it took me a while for me to realize what it was that i wanted
then it hit me, as most thoughts do, out of the blue
i remembered the story of Icarius and what happened to him
once he gained his freedom he became drunk on it
his addiction made him blind to the dangers of his freedom
thus he died at the hands of what he craved in life
much like him i want freedom

i don't want to deal with my unsupportive mother who doesn't believe in what i feel
i don't want to be stuck living in fear of my father and all he could do
i don't want to have to keep pretending i am one person around my family and another around my friends
i don't want to live in the body i was given
because despite everyone calling it a gift
i can't help but to laugh because to me it is a curse in which it is **** near impossible to live in
and yet each day i go on hoping that when i'm old enough life will get better

that my mother will accept me, and my father will leave me be
that one day i will be who i truly am and my friends and family will know that me
that one day i will make my body my own
eventually the day will come when i get my freedom

the calm synth exhales.
i close my eyes as the rumble of the wheels turn.
palms face up on my lap, i pray.

señor, cuídame en este viaje.
estás conmigo.
inhala; exhala.

my stomach dips with the beat,
the bass picks up & so do we,
right on cue in perfect harmony.

i’m not scared of flying.
i found a peace in that moment
where the song, the sky & my soul
snapped into sync so smoothly
that i sighed in serenity.

i’m not scared of flying,
but sometimes of where i’m going,
& of what lies ahead.

but let me have this moment,
where daniel & kali
soar through the clouds with me,
where everything seems to click.

let me breathe,
despite the lack of oxygen outside.
& save a seat for Him.

~ pilot of life, perfect attendant & guiding wind.

I remember long days longer nights
unsung sorrows
humbling flight of night things
the grand silhouette of the sky
empty with all but
your hand in mine held above
our minds.

We lept from the ledge
Fell gracefully...


now I’ve crashed to earth

A body in motion
Translating sound into
Action, stepping bowing
Then momentarily,
She flies.


A perfect, graceful sight
Muscles taut, try to keep
Pace with a mind, that
Not even gravity
Can corrupt.


Her torso sculpted by
Dedication, passion,
Anger and pain, so that
She may perhaps go on
To fly again.


Floating through the air like
Water, black and sombre;
But she dies in the end,
Old age clipping her wings
Into submission.

Even the birds
asked me why
I am not using
my wings

I could go on forever
Flying on our feathers
Looking down from clouds
examining and watching
seeing every human dot
compromising and colliding
relating with the concrete
calling forth what they know
and then:

change happens
from calm and strong brains
every single object and thought
talks further of ambition
the clouds move
the heavens unlock
it rains
we get wet
it is cold

Why does the tree seed fly?

To be like the hummingbird, or the bat?

Does it fly to claim independence from the tree?

If its wish is to taste the soil, to take root, then why not just fall.

Does the tree prepare the seed for flight?  

Do the fair hair seeds sit high atop the tree?

Does the tree seed fly to inspire us to fly? Or to fall? Or to fail until successful?

Ask the tree and it will say it has always been that way.

Ask the seed and it will say it has always been that way.

So who decides why the tree seed flies?

Not I.