addicted to the sky

i am a lone lark, circling fields of canola, trying desperately to land without causing a stir.

my wings carry me far from feeling, far from needing anyone, keeping me afloat above a world of hungry people.

i make patterns like an airplane, feeling high on ideals and low about myself.

to need someone; to let myself fall... to cut my wings so i might feel the gentle stroke of a human hand. to be lifted up.

so many are so good at walking the earth -- can't i just stay up here alone, flying haphazardly in circles forever? in the end to die, fall, at the feet of no one?

confused i beg God to cut my wings for me! i am addicted to the sky.