High

You desire

s p a c e

Ascending into the pure black

Where stars saunter

Lingering to wink at the lost wanderers

Endlessly wondering

Starting at the highest point

The razor edge

Stand

Stand Stretch

Stand Stretch Reach

Fingertips startling the curious sky

S o c l o s e

You whisper

A little bit

M o r e

The moon turns her face

Hiding from the shine

Of hope in your eye

She knows the tragedy at the end of your dreams

If you were meant for flight

You would have been born with

W i n g s