I feel like a kite...

I feel like a kite
​soaring,
high up in the sky
Nice gentle breeze swaying me
East and West
Bird’s eye view of magnificent landscapes
Beauty that overwhelm the few bare, ugly, spots

Thankful
for the breeze
and the view
and the rock
sitting atop my line
keeping me tethered in my gentle sway

But every now and again,
winds prevail and, with a taut string,
I catch a glimpse of a landscape further afield


An unknown
full of promises
of success and failure
of love and hurt
of challenge and reward

A surge of energy overcomes me and I declare
I should ride the wind!
Pull so hard,
tear myself loose
and fly!


But the harder I pull, the nowhere I get

I look down my line
to the rock sitting atop my string
And in utter frustration I scream

“WHY ARE YOU KEEPING ME IN PLACE?”

Exhaustion
Confusion
set in

Was the wind meant to snap me out of subconscious avolition or was it to test the strength of my line?

Should I curse the rock and its heaviness?
Or be thankful that I am not swept away?

Am I meant to fly?
or will I forever continue in my sway?

I feel like a kite
soaring,
high up in the sky
swaying between contentment
and an urge to cut my string and fly away