I stand in a field of hopes, drowning in the seas of sorrow. Once, a good many years ago, I flew.
I flew high above the clouds, staring down upon the blurred colors, honorable monuments, and faded tombstones… I flew over the endless tears, the bitter laughter, the masked fear, the blinding hatred… blocking it all out, watching as it passed in a slow, suspenseful movement that drew tears to my eyes. I flew, to what, I thought, was freedom.
No one told me what I might meet, once I found this world. No one spoke of the encounters that I might face, once I entered, what was to be, the light.
I was free when I flew… but now, I am bound, trapped in an eternal cycle, never to see the sky again… never to fly again…
I stand, separate, isolated, trapped on this everlasting night. I outstretch my arms, clinging to that last ounce of light, that fading aura, which was once my heart… my memories.
So, here I stand, in a field of hopes. I drown in the seas of sorrow, never, to fly again. So… is this freedom?