Cloud Surfing

They thought if they cut my wings,
I would finally stay still.
Learn gravity.
Learn my place.

☁️

They measured me by weight and rules,
by what could be explained or controlled.
They didn’t see that some souls
are shaped for motion,
for drifting,
for becoming.

☁️

So I learned to surf the clouds instead,
heart open,
riding the invisible currents between fear and wonder.
And at the edge of the sky,
when the air thins and doubt grows loud,
I look down.

☁️

Far below, the sea stretches endlessly - 
wild, deep, and breathing.
And somehow, looking into that vastness,
hope grows louder than the wind.
There is always more space
than the world allows us to believe.

☁️

My body no longer follows a single logic.
Some parts drift ahead,
others linger behind.
I let them.
I trust what doesn’t rush.
I trust what floats.

☁️

I know there will be a moment
when someone waits for me
with flowers in their hands - 
not as a reward,
not as a rescue,
but as recognition.

☁️

Until then,
I learn how to hold beauty myself.
I buy my own flowers.
I notice butterflies passing through seconds.
Birds crossing thoughts.
Windows opening to horizons
that ask nothing of me.

☁️

This is not falling.
This is not escaping.
This is learning how to stay
between earth and dream
without losing myself.

☁️

And so I remain here - 
listening to the air,
testing the weight of clouds,
letting the sky decide
how much of me it can hold.