Renaissance

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

From one of her castle’s view,

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

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

She climbed and lay brick by brick as she created them imagination upon imagination.

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

But now,

She lies back on solid ground.

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

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

Only clear skies.

A new beginning.

Watching the skies, the clouds form images of abstruse art, trying to figure out if they could be talking to her,

Whispering to her heart’s desires.

She can now start again.

No bricks, no clay, no ladders.

Just wings and the power of command.

Take off little angel,

Go,

Fly,

Soar,

But still, she lies on solid ground.

On her wings.

Beautiful, white, bold wings.

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

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

So everyday, she gains more courage, more strength.

Because her wings are powered by omnipotence.

Woman on her wings, nature

♣️

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