Thursday, August 6, 2009
Sometimes, when it's a quiet and the world is still, I'll imagine what it would be like to fly.
I would raise my arms in the air begin to run full forced non stop. As I felt my body picking up speed I would put the weight on the balls of my feet and push off. At first I would only rise a couple feet from the ground, my arms would be moving exceptionally fast, and I would have to beat them abruptly in order to keep my feet from touching the ground. I would feel tired, exhausted, but I would not stop the flapping motion of my arms. And after a short while I would begin to rise, higher and higher and higher. For a moment I would forget the task at hand and pause to look down. The cars and houses would shrink smaller and smaller. And as I looked upward in the direction I was going the clouds would grow larger and larger inviting me to be apart of them. I would flap my arms even harder and rise above them. Then... when everything was still. When I could no longer hear the horns of the city, or laughs and yells of the suburbs, when I forgot who I was, when I was completely alone, when all I could see was a painted blue sky and white undertone, I would stop moving my arms. They would be held out on either side of me, as stiff as a plane. I would use this to turn my body and coast anywhere I wanted to go. There were no bars or windows. No worries or regrets. Just sky and me. And unlike other dreams, where you wake up from falling, I would remain in the air. And when I did decide to land, I would not remember it. Because the feeling was so graceful and perfect... it's as if it never occurred.
All I would remember was sky and me.
Posted by J.A