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.
In it’s own spontaneous, uninhibited, flying, wild style, free, uninterrupted, journeying alone for miles.
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 surrounded, submerged and unable to taste my 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,
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, but without fearing the failures or feeling my pleasures,
my memories treasure’s, infinitely.
It’s very existence is my gift,
my soul uplifted.
My very place is as it’s mentor, advice giver,
it’s future edition, every directional wish lived in,
my overthoughts- pulse,
to breathe again.
Any consumed time allowed to wallow, in proudly.
As it shares none of my pursuits with proof.
I simply just must remind my Free Spirit in it’s need to shine,
that every possible flight it endures, is shared, but solely and unmistakably, are all mine.
Poetry By Tamara Dorsey-Moore
Thinker on the Loose
Copyright (c) 2017 Reserved purposes intended.