Where the wild sky–

Go to where the wild sky does not end
where the cottonball soft wisps of pink and blue
fade into the moon,
where wild flowers grow like sweet poison ivy,
where peaks of mountains frame distant dreams
and patient days float by like silent streams of dry creek beds.
Do the things that haven’t yet been done,
hug each day in a wild embrace, be free.
Don’t give up on the magic of the unknown,
the sweet unforgivable promise
found under each overturned rock
and in each golden hollow.
Be impossibly tied to the invisible wind,
to the beams of soft sunlight that scatter the heavens,
and as you walk across the endless meadow
tied to that endless sky,
be there — walking —
and never look back with your wild eyes.

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