Almost through

October 1, 2009
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I tear open the sky
Empty hands grabbing at empty air
Trying to hold what can’t be held
Shreds of air fly about
I feel them brush my skin
Soft like the butterfly’s wing
But I see nothing but the fields of goldenrod
My fingers shredding the long grass
If only I could get past that lightened illusion
And see that I’m almost through
These invisible walls that keep me grounded
In reality

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