Soaring

Briskly walking, I feel the needling wind prickling my skin, anesthetizing my ears, stinging my eyes.

My senses awaken.

As I run, freedom rises through my feet, rushes up my legs into my stomach, my lungs, my head.

I am lifting, rising, soaring – becoming one with the air and sky.

I glide and look down to see the world miniaturized.

I cannot see the craziness – I am above it, beyond it. Instead I see color, symmetry, pattern, texture.

Pleasure warms me, flowing through my veins, giving me energy to dip and dive, rise and fall with the currents.

My solitude is joy and peace instead of pain, and I soar into infinity. AFH

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