The region of the atmosphere and outer space seen from the earth,
Where clouds hang and the unknown rests.
Birds are free, no judgment lays within
The thin air above our dreams.
Yet we come down and what do we see?
Shaking heads and fingers
Waiting to point at the next person.
But at the end,
We are all equal.
All flawed, all messed up
In our own little worlds
Too busy looking at our own
Insecurities and troubles
To look over our shoulders
And lend a helping hand.
But at the end,
We are all equal.
We all breathe, we all live
Under the same sky.
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Anthology
RandomA collection of original poems, essays, letters and literary works that are very close to my heart.
