March 30, 2008
Rushing Wind, the only sound
As I fly miles above the ground
Cleansing my heart and soul
Breath, is what the sky stole
Amazed by the magnificent space
Pockets of undiseased air hit my face

Could this be happening?
How is this happening?

Barrel rolls, cartwheels, and flips
All handled with professional composure
Diving, dipping, and dodging with ease
Away from all the grounds sleaze

Frozen mist hits my face
As I rip through the clouds with grace
Feeling the energy of the sun
Please just five more minutes of sleep

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