If the sky is the limit, then please, tell me where I fit in.
I slow dance while I hover above the clouds,
just trying to listen.
If the sky is the limit, there will be no room for a cynic.
We will never bloom with a heart that was surely never in it.
If the sky is the limit, I will tell my soul to take on the shape of a mockingbird
and my wings will mimic.
If the sky is the limit,
then one day we will be finished.
Something will diminish within it,
and i will not fade away without leaving something for the children.
I continue to listen and i hear everything that is missing.
Like the space between these lines
or the fine print that provides the most detailed signs.
Let me fill in the blanks.
If the sky is the limit,
I wonder what being limitless takes.
Maybe it takes on the shape of the letters in words
going unheard.
Maybe it is in the muscles assured,
that make you get up not the first or second time,
but the third.
Maybe it's in the charm
that rests in the heart of the sleeve on my arm.

If the sky is the limit,
maybe we will go too far.

- L.G