Tell me
why I’m still standing here,
head tilted back,
mouth open wide,
for rain
to drown me
on open land.
I’m clinging for strads
of atmosphere,
but all it is
is air.
Tell me
whether to stay or go
when what I long to do
is fly.
But even if I were
to reach those upper spheres
no amount of grasping
could pull down
clouds.
Tell me
if anything would change
were I to find a place
of water and green,
for I fear
I’d not know how
to live
without thirst
to stoke ambitions
back to
the sky.
For earthbound
I wasn’t born
to be.