I know.
It's long.

Phoenix-like, borne of ashes and smoke,
I yearn to fly.
Above the trees that pepper the ground,
Above the clouds that block the sun,
Above the people that mill like ants
In the little dirt-mound of a world...

From my lofty perch up here in the stars,
With cosmos twirling thunderous around my head
Leaving crackling lightning trails in their wake,
I look down at the ants
Infinitesimally small from this perspective.
Amazing how, from the ground,
They rose above me, towering,
Gigantic problems, even in their transparency,
And intimidated me so.
Yet from here, I can barley distinguish them
From the lushly cushioned Earth they walk along.

And suddenly, I miss the ground.
Emerald trees and
Waving wind and
Sighing sun and

The sky is beautiful, but there is a reason
Humans were not born with wings.
We can fly, we can soar, on the wings of imagination,
Broader and more feathery
Than even an eagle's.
Need we wish for the physical ability,
When we can sing through the skies in our mind?

With you standing beside me, I can fly
Higher than the stratosphere would ever allow.
Your love is sturdier than any mass-marketed space helmet could dream of being.