in my reverie

creatures of the common place.

There come these times, infrequently, that I develop this impulsive craving to stop everything I'm doing, open the door & run free as a bird in this open field as fast as I can. Free-spirited. I can't tell if I have dreamt of this place or an illustration I painted in my mind. It's as vacant as the ocean & greener than grass scattered across fields & fields & fields that you can't sustain beyond. There's nothing else. I am the only one. I am slightly running down a hill, to that point where you hardly even have control, it's guiding you through. I feel every inch of my body in motion. The only thing arresting my mind is freedom. Not sprinting from my catastrophies, for I created those effortlessly, rather immigrate to new beginnings. Yeah, that. I like the way that sounds. Fear becomes a foreign word. My arms are open wide & the breeze feels so good hitting my face & through my hair. Eyes wide shut. I never stop, I just wake up.