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Writer's pictureCeleste

The Wing’s Edge

I would start out slow One foot Then the other All the way across the wing until my hands find the edge to hold onto I wouldn’t just look down I would lay down Two hands gripping the wing’s edge Face completely parallel to the horizon Then I’d start counting One two three four Five mountains Six clouds Seven ideas in my head of how I’d build my house high enough to have this view everyday

I’d sigh Knowing that there’d never come a day for that I’d let go And allow the wind to take me somewhere else I want to see more I want to feel more I want to be more My mind would drag my body behind it Chasing the sun colliding With moons half crescent subsiding Waves drawing back from shore like they’re ashamed hiding Beneath my eyelids I’d find sleep too tiring So I’d never close my eyes And I’d never fall asleep Unless

After all of my adventuring I found someone to adventure with me Then Possibly I’d take a break Not from adventure But from seeing the world with a single isolated perspective Instead I’d open up discussion I’d allow my feelings to succumb to new things I’d awaken a deeper understanding Of viewing the world Not just me But us

We would start out slow One foot Then another Two hands Holding each other Using our free hands to grip the wing’s edge

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