i'm persistently consumed by occasional weight;
blood laboured by pure, fleeting thoughts.
as if sinking upwards is my very fate,
into the sky; by release i am caught.
but in this my oxymoron is birthed -
though by troubled meaning i am girthed,
i remain as heavy and weightless,
as lightened and freightless,
as inevitably fateless,
as my wish to plunge and soar.