Renaissance

She used to be a dreamer, she built many kingdoms and towering castles.

From one of her castles,

She watched the skies and clouds, they were so close, she could touch them- almost-

She observed each castle, reminiscing each one’s own story, each one’s own king.

She climbed them all; laying brick by brick. Creating them imagination upon imagination.

She never tired of creation, of painting her world whichever way she pleased.

But now,

She lays back on solid ground.

Where the grass feels moist on her feet and the sun rays caress her face with lovely beams of light.

No castles, no colours, no brushes, no paint, no drawings, no creations.

Only clear skies.

A new beginning.

Watching the skies, watching the clouds form images of abstruse art; trying to figure out if they could be talking to her or whispering to her heart’s desires.

She can now start again.

No bricks, no clay, no ladders, no castles.

Just wings and the power of command.

Take off little angel,

Go,

Fly,

Soar,

But yet, she lays still on solid ground.

On her wings.

Big, bold, beautiful, white wings.

Her heart still heavy, still too weak to command her wings to soar.

Her heart insistently in hushed tones saying: “you can’t keep holding, you can’t keep carrying, let go and your wings will carry you.”

So everyday, she gains more courage, more strength.

Because her wings are powered by omnipotence.

Woman on her wings, nature

♣️

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