Head buried under the earth of soft pillows.
He drifts on a dreamy cloud to the lands where the horses of imagination run wild.
The cloud turns into an airplane, truly a wonder a child\'s mind is.
The engines hum, a lullaby of propulsion. The runway, a ribbon of stardust, beckons.
He is the captain, soaring high in the skies.
His fuselage gleams, polished by celestial hands, and its wings stretch wide, catching the currents of imagination.
In the heart of dawn where the sun kisses the peaks, I soar on the wings of the untamed, where the wilderness speaks.
Mountains rise like ancient sentinels, their granite spines whispering unheard tales through the soft rustling of pines.
Their snow-covered crowns touch the cerulean canvas, a celestial embrace.
And from their lofty summits, He glimpses eternity’s home.
He flies over the dense forests.
Below, the emerald canopy beckons—a labyrinth of green.
Each leaf, a chapter written by the wind, unseen.
He dives into the heartwood, where moss carpets the floor,
And there, He finds solace in whispers of ancient lore.
Then come the mighty seas, a true wonder to be seen.
The horizon stretches wide, an azure expanse.
Waves, like wild horses, gallop toward infinity’s dance.
He skims the crests, tasting salt on his lips,
As dolphins weave ribbons of joy, their playful flips.
He flies over the deserts of the Sahara, his wings radiant midst the heat.
The sands ripple, undulating like forgotten dreams.
Here, survival is etched in cacti’s spines and sun’s gleams.
He treads the dunes, where mirages waltz with the sun,
And find solace in the emptiness—a canvas yet undone.
At last, he flies beneath the waterfall, the water cleansing his spirit pure.
A wanderer of the wild he lets his imagination roam far and wide.
But now it\'s time to wake, for the captain\'s plane runs out of fuel.
As the alarm rings, he shakes dew of his sleepy eyes.