Under the bright cast of the fullmoon,
When it’s glow draws out the contours of her face.
You’ll understand why she couldn’t breathe at times.
Why her heart hurt,
Why her feet grew wary wandering on the same spot.
Why her eyes cried tearlessly.
One day, when you are within the outskirts of consciousness.
And unhindered by the facade that is reality.
When you finally see clearly,
That she could not be held down.
That you cannot clip her wings.
That her mind will always wonder what could be,
Beyond the horizon of reality.
You will soon see,
That she is of the sky,
That her brain works as seamlessly,
As the clouds move effortlessly.
Then you will see.
But today you will think,
That she is a fidgety child,
With an imaginative mind.