i don't think you could grow up
where i did and
not love open spaces
there is more trees
and grass
and sky
than people and facesi trained to be a pilot
not for some life goal
but because i wanted that endless sky
to swallow me wholei can picture it so clearly
when i laid beneath the night sky
and watched its colours
float down to where i lie
it swallowed me up
or i guess it was more of a warm hug
surrounded by vast and i couldn't get enoughwhen i have my own hands
at the controls of my own plane
it's my decision
if i want to land
or if i want to remaini could just stay among the clouds
though i don't have an over the top
i could just fly in them forever
i wouldn't ever have to stopor i could lose control
and spiralling down i would go
probably into a forest
covered in ice and snowi could wander there for the rest of my life
in those endless woods
no neon ribbon to guide my way
no sign of beginning or end
just as it should.but maybe there is an end
some distant wheat field
where i can see until the ground
and the sky meet
it all looks so reali could walk towards it
to that place where heaven and earth touched
but i would never make it
the walk would always be too much
for my tired feet
and my burning eyes
and the sun taunts me from its place
in the skyit laughs as i continue my stride
i feel the truth buried deep inside
as the sun recedes and the moon takes its place
and i know i will never reach the end
if this hellspaceor maybe i do come to an end
though not the one i desired
just a gravel road
no marks
made by no tiresi could choose to go left
or i could choose to go right
it doesn't even matter
because there is no end to this road in sightmy world is eternal
as i walk again for ages
sky, forest, field, or man made grid
it's all the same place
just different stages
nothing ever really ends
especially not this road i've chosen to wander
because every time i come to a stop
i wish to go just a little bit longerall i've ever known
is wide open spaces
wide open people
and wide open places
there is no fear
of being cornered or crushed
only the fear
that even all this space
will never be enough
YOU ARE READING
The Complete Chronological Works
PoetryStarted early 2018 ⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ - sexual assault mentions - suicide mentions - self harm mentions - themes of depression - themes of anxiety