Connecting with the world as it shifts and changes, gliding past the cars that fuel it's flight.
It's destination is the ground below it, only questioning where that ground may be.
I want to be the fish that swims in the bluest of seas, not because of its color but so I may see my enemies.
I'd float and sing softly along with the sounds that are made the seaweed and conch shells.
The water is home and soothing and true, it's vast and it's kind, it is everlasting.
I want to be the orange sky that only comes about when fall has arrived, it's color like magic brush strokes floating between earth and nothingness.
It bursts with flames of red and gold until it vanishes into pure blackness.
The changes may come still those colors are always there.
Until then I'll just be
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