Is not comfort expressed
in what we look for everyday?
When our fingers move through fire
to untie the bonds from our wings
so we can become the form
of everything.  

When old thoughts are found on pages
containing imaginary stairs
do we find that our eyes lie to us
about worlds we will find there?
Or do we just like those new beginnings
where all is well and fair?

Each day I tell you that I am not the one
who in time will disappear.
Yes, inside I move eagerly towards trust
and forwards I dive full into the sky.
But here with you,
I find to be most dear.

Night and day we climb hills to see the sun
and all its possibilities.
Yet we never blink an eye or stare
at the dreams visible to us all.
Perhaps, we are afraid to open the door
to our own imagination’s call.