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I sit here in this mechanical bird,
Which provides me with the wings that I have already lost.
Up here I see my mystical home.
Below, a floating blanket of clouds
Which glow like a new fall of snow.
Above, a clear night sky
Where the stars shimmer around a luminous moon
That yearns to be full.
In the distance a cluster of dark clouds emerge.
A white light grows
As bolts of energy shoot out.
I know I’m being
Watched,
Guided.
But by who?
Longing,
I continue.
Alone,
I am not.
Written By:
Chrystal Vitale 8/10/03