Inhale in the air that gives you life,
Exhale out the waste that burdens you,
In and out,
Take it slowly.
1/4/2021

A wash of blue
            
             Cool, calm.

Brush strokes on canvas

              Subtle, sweet.

Ocean eyes

               Pure, pretty.

Unfiltered sky

                Lucid, lush.

My kind of blue.

Till the vast end of the horizon
sparkling in the sun
waters churned with molten opals
& with sapphires it was spun
into a splendid blanket of blue
rippling to the empyrean's breath
in the most ethereal hue
a profound pool of depth.

They'll tell you how beautiful are your wings,

While they bind your pinions and strip your feathers.

"So graceful and so precious!  Such lofty, ethereal things,"

The words like rusty chains, cracked leather-sentiment tethers.

They'll tell you, "Rise above the sorrow, fly from the pain,"

After they teach you to clip your own wings so you won't fall,

And when the confusion sets in they'll be the first to tell you you're sane.

"People can't fly," they'll say, and point to the wings nailed to their wall.