I awake an oaken, forest green.
I’ll craft in wood, metal, or leather.
I’ll make a bow, knife, and sheath.
I’ll shoot a target in solitary tranquility.
It is then that words flow easily, pen to paper,
and I don’t mind being alone.

Then, I look up and see the gradient, blue sky.
It is then I seek the company of friends.
Craft isn’t easy, but who cares?
I’ll ski through the woods with a few close pals.
I’ll act onstage with my brothers and sisters.
I’ll take to the shy and dance on the clouds.

I belong to the Earth.

I belong to the sky.

I feel as though I’m among the stars.