Migration
I am free.
footfallen bathing in everything
ahead of me. scents from foreign places.
opening the world up with each step. soft sways.
onto the ground. drinking in unknown cities. the entirety
of space. it has all unveiled itself to me. called me forth to glide
on different wings, better yet, sprout new ones myself. let the past
flanks molt, push old feathers out of my skin like parasites. even the smallest
beginnings of growth guide me to higher and higher spaces. and everything past
is a beautiful memory and everything ahead is the whole of me becoming. I am I am I am.
In The Way 
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