It is in the little things. The quiet spaces and places. I Am.

I wanted to fly to the moon

I had wings. But I remembered that they were not big enough.

Yet.

But my neck had grown tired from constantly bending backwords.

Back so my eyes could face the stars.

My head was in the clouds.

I almost took flight. I had wings.

But then I remembered that they were not big enough. Yet.

So I ran instead.

Ran steadily to the moon.

To the moon.

I had wings, but they were not big enough. Yet.