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heaven hill
at the peak of heaven hill
i stand,
the surrounding trees sing my praise.
the blades of grass dance in anticipation.
the air tastes sweet
like liberty,
like introspection,
like love.
the clouds hold me close,
transforming me into a fellow wisp.
the farthest clouds come to rejoice in my return.
even once i return to my body
and escape to the city,
they hold me
and wait
for me to be ready
to see them again.
until then,
they titter with the fallen leaves
and banter with a timid breeze

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