to my free spirit.
It gets beside itself.
For it will stand by me,
Flee outside me, but casually pretend, that it lives somewhere else.
On it’s own, spontaneous, uninhibited, flying, a wild child , free, uninterrupted, journeying alone for miles, away from Me.
Like an Albatross or an Owl
over oceans in the skies night,
waving at me mockingly,
while soaring in flight.
Like it fears, my flight is stunted
I’m too down to earth, and grounded, feet firmly planted, possibly in quicksand to it, unable to taste my own actual worth.
I believe my Free-Spirit forgets,
that it should fret,
like a puppet,
I pull it’s strings.
Outside of me, its spontaneity,
is very clearly, also my thing.
I may appear to just stand and plan, but that Albatrosses longest wingspan, is in flight to my dreams.
While the Owl inside, exhibits my nocturnal pride, my freedom as well as wisdom’s need.
My Free-spirit shares all that is Me, with me, but without fearing the failures or feeling my pleasures, pressures, my memories treasure’s, my measured beliefs.
It’s very existence is my gift,
my soul uplifted.
My place is as it’s mentor, advice giver, heroic insight, it’s future edition, every directional wish ever lived in, my overthoughts-pulse, my depth’s need to breathe again.
Any consumed time allowed, to wallow, in proudly.
My Free-Spirit only bares a nickname, to my greatness, taking a window seat, riding shot gun with Me, at my fame’s request.
As it shares none of my pursuits with proof.
I simply just must remind my wayward Free Spirit in it’s need to shine,
that every possible flight it endures, is shared, but solely and unmistakably, all mine.
Poetry By Tamara Dorsey-Moore Thinker on the Loose
Copyright (c) 2017 Reserved purposes intended.
Thanks for reading ♡