There is yearning
in the looking up.
The unattainable,
marbled with secrets,
lures.
The gulls
in swooping arabesque
mock me with their indifference.
But still I reach.
There is that dream —
you know the one? —
Alone,
I soar,
scared and joyful,
lifted not by wings
but
(I think)
by self.
Thanks to photographer S.W. Berg for this beautiful capture.