maybe it's time to fly on instinct

i don't think birds think about the wind passing
beneath their wings lifting them from their state
on the ground.

they rise above the places in which they were grounded
without thought as to how or why.

they don't 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.

then 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
the flames.)

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.