Posted in Verses

Flying Kites

At times, I feel like I might be going a little mad.

Sanity hangs by a thread, entwined in my fingers, and I watch it wave and dance in the wind, enticing me to let go.

It winds its way up my forearms, my torso, and just as it tightens around my neck, I gasp, and it relaxes its hold, like in jest.

I think I hear soft laughter dissolving into the air around me.

The other end stretches far above me, and the colourful piece of paper fluttering at the end of it is all too invisible to my eyes. Perhaps I’m getting old. Perhaps I’ve travelled too far from where I started, and I will never get to see the intricate designs of love drawn into its skin.

I watch as it soars higher and higher, hiding among the clouds every now and then.

The line cuts into my fingers often, and my neck almost once.

I wonder about letting go, but I am afraid,

Uncertain of what I seek;

Whether I want to watch it fly away, or hope to pick it up from the ground and start all over again.

I grit my teeth and hold on.


A wayward thinker hiding behind the facade of necessary courtesies

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