maybe it's time to
fly on instincti don't think birds think about the
beneath their wings lifting them from their state
on the ground.
they rise above the places in which they were
without thought as to how or why.
need a reason to soar.the wind just takes them to
higher heights that we've
ever seen (other than through a glass pane between
metal walls) and the birds just live where they were
made to be in contentment.
maybe if we'd stop thinking
and fly on instinct,
we could get somewhere, too.
maybe we could rise above the pressure in the
atmosphere that is proven to be weighing us down.
(maybe we could rise above the
effigy that our bodies
are incinerating in and letting the clouds extinguish
if we would stop telling ourselves
all the ways we can't
instinct would move us in all of the ways that we can.
maybe it's time to fly on instinct and stop letting
this rocky bottom get in our way.