Flight

Sometimes I look out my window, and wonder what it would be like to just jump out and soar through the sky. What it would feel like to fly above the mountains, above the ocean, to feel the wind in my face, to be utterly weightless. Other times I wonder if we could fly, would we fantasize about a life like ours, controlled by gravity, and wish we could live like that? Would we appreciate what we have, or would we ask for more? Ask for less? This is why we dream, to fill in the gap that is created from want, we think that we will succeed in everything as long we set a goal. Once we get there, we set new ones because we realize that first one was not enough, it is a never ending cycle. My dream is to fly, not as a pilot but as a bird.

A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
-Edgar Allen Poe