I walk the sky, feet on the Earth,
head in the clouds.
My hair reaches out to the sun,
singing and dancing,
laughing to catch the
ebullient rays of its sizzling–
sun beaming down on my head–
caressing, teasing, warming, pleasing.
I walk the sky, feet on the sidewalk,
head in the galaxies–which
sail in an ear and weave and bob
and jump and stomp, twirling,
through my brain,
leaving sparkling newborn
molecules, that light the space,
then silently, swiftly
pass through the other ear.
I walk the sky, thoughts on the universes,
feet on the Earth.
Though my feet feel less gravity-bound
on occasion, as if I could float gently
up into the places where my mind
dwells more and more.
Where the sun warms the bottom
of my feet, and the stars
beckon me to them with
songs of adventure and
whispers of new worlds to
explore. Where the dance
of the seen and unseen,
and lure of known and unknown,
draw me into the mysterious
realm of things which seem
somehow familiar yet just out of reach.
I’ve walked the sky, feet on the Earth,
and will, someday if I’m lucky,
sail through the spaces,
between the galaxies and stars
and planets, and that which
is but cannot be seen by us
I walk the sky.