He chose to walk alone,
though others wondered why
Refused to look before him,
kept eyes cast upwards towards the sky
He didn’t have companions;
no need for earthly things
Only wanted freedom
from what he felt were puppet strings.
He longed to be a bird,
that he might fly away.
He pitied every blade of grass,
for planted they would stay.
He longed to be a flame
that brightly danced alone.
Felt jealous of the steam
that made the air its only home.
Some say he wished too hard;
some say he wished too long.
But we awoke one autumn day
to find that he was gone.
The trees, they say, stood witness;
the sky refused to tell
But someone who had seen it
said the story played out well
He spread his arms out wide,
breathed in the break of dawn
He just let go of all he held…
and then he was gone
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