Flying to the heights

If I had wings, I would fly to the heights,
and leave everything as it is.

I would not reach to mend things, because in leaving,
all things would be mended in strange bliss.

I would rise into the sky and forget the names pressed upon me.
The clouds would unfasten me; their softness would make everything dreamlike.

There, I would taste silence.
I would learn what it means to stand above the noise.

Human voices would fade.
The ache inside my head
would loosen its hold.

Faces would vanish.
The shadow within me
would begin to flourish.

My sight would widen.
No longer broken,
I would look only at what remains unspoken.

Space would become my high priest,
and in its name I would build my kingdom, the highest.

No one would reach it.
No one could breach it.

What belongs below
would remain below.
What belongs above
would stay above.

I would move from sphere to sphere,
I would drift from isle to isle.
Drinking the waters of release,
there would remain nothing but grace.

― Atrona Grizel