We all break. We all cry. We are all human. I am not perfect; no one is. I am broken today. I am struggling to carry the jagged puzzle pieces in my hands. I need to put them back together, but they are all falling out of my hands. There are 302 of them. It’s an unlucky number, I think.
I think a lot. I think too much. I think so much that nobody wants to hear all my many thoughts. People tell me to get organized, they say make lists. It’s a great idea. I should make lists. I should do that.
I am a non-linear thinker.
I think in colors and poems and pictures.
I see things that I want to happen.
And I make them happen.
I can’t see through the tears today, because my brain won’t let me. It’s cloudy in there. It’s cloudy out there.
The clouds are beautiful. They are a majestic shade of gray that I couldn’t have ever imagined, but I did imagine it because I can see it in front of my eyes. The tears stream down my face and I fall to the ground, only there is not ground.
I can fly, you know.
I have wings. You just haven’t seen them. They are white wings. They are wrapped in hardened beeswax. I flex my wings until the wax breaks and they move. They are moving. I am moving and am flapping my wings freely in the wind and I am crying.
The tears drop down in the sky like rain. It’s raining and I am flying through that rain. I am facing my fear. I am discovering that through the dark gray clouds, through the night sky there is hope.
My flight continues into the morning sunrise. I can feel the heat of the sun on my face as I see Icarus beside me. The sun warms me.
I love my wings because they carry me to a better place.
With a poem in my pocket and the color green in my mind, I will get there.