Someone asked me where I was going. I said I'm...
I was warned not to reach for the sky, just watch the beauty and enjoy. But like a moth to a lamp, I allowed myself to be burned.
Yes, I have asked the Universe for the sky, not the world. In asking for the sky I also asked to be allowed to fly, to have wings for a dream.
Today, I still see my feet firmly rooted to the ground as gravity pulls me down each time I try to lift me up.
Gravity and the universe put things in order by limiting one to a box, to a world made for stereotypes and destinies drawn since birth.
Seriously, can one fly and not ask for too much?