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poetry

The Sky

I once dreamt that I could make the clouds move

And time stop

I pretended that I rewound time to before my birth

Before the birth of civilization

And the sky was a beautiful, brilliant blue

With so many stars it almost hurt to see

In that same dream, my feet stayed chained to the grass below me

And the Earth wouldn’t allow my escape

I stretched towards the stars until my sides began to split

And my eyes began to burn

Eventually, as I swirled the clouds

And manipulated time

I became nothing more

Than grass beneath my feet

Always yearning for the stars

***

I’ve always enjoyed the myth about Icarus and his wax wings; this dream was very similar in message. I can’t recall when I had this dream, but I do remember its premise. I also remember waking up feeling frustrated and incomplete.