In the daylight, my system is brimming with migrations.

I transcended out of the blur and into the broad. Protruding out of the earth are the specks and the bricks and the wires, distinct from the texture of the natural. The wandering colors do not escape the glass windows. The fragility, the fleetingness reflect boldly amid the perpetual blue.

We are merely made from ashes and merely molded by society. We are merely men and cement compared to the beautiful sky above.

Stories fade, feelings die. To let merely everything go is a heavenly life.

Come nighttime, I fly.


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