I must reintroduce myself,
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,
a flying wild child- free from interruption, journeying alone– for miles,
away from Me.
Like an Owl or an Albatross
over the oceans and Seas–
the skies night,
waving at me mockingly,
while soaring in flight.
Like maybe –it fears,
my flight is stunted,
because I’m too down to earth,
as if my feet were too firmly planted–
possibly–in quicksand too it,
perhaps, thinking I’m unable to taste my own worth.
I believe my Free-Spirit forgets,
that it should fret–
like a puppet.
I pull it’s strings.
Outside of me,
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– wisdom’s need.
My Free-spirit shares all that is Me,
but without fearing the failures-
success in feeling- my pleasures,
or bured memory’s treasured–
of my measured– beliefs.
It’s very existence is my gift,
my soul’s uplift.
My place –is as it’s,
any hopeful heroic insight,
it’s future edition,
every directional wish, it’s ever lived– in,
in my depthful need– to breathe again.
Plus any consumed time allowed,
too wallow– in.
My Free-Spirit only bares a nickname,
too my greatness,
taking a window seat,
too ride shot gun with Me,
in my name’s –Crest.
As it shares none of my pursuits–
I simply must remind my wayward
Free Spirit in it’s need to shine,
that every possible flight-
but unmistakably, and solely mine.
Poetry By Tamara Dorsey-Moore Thinker on the Loose
Copyright (c) 2017 Reserved purposes intended.
Thanks for reading ♡