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On the Far Side of Here
I kept it treading air,
constrained,
as if it were held
tied to a grip, clenched
for fear of letting go and give
to wings a fluttering freedom,
an elsewhere beyond
the mind's persistent stare
and the anchored weight
of being.
I would like
to launch and let it
rise into fenceless air,
to fly unhindered, a blur
of colour keeping
just within my reach until
it lifts away to where
the slightest breath
sends it aimless, adrift
on a gentle wind, to settle
a dreaming soul - somewhere -
on the far side of here.
Copyright ©
Paul Willason
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