The Beckoning

They dropped the bomb on me. And they stunned me.

But not for long. They weren't haters. They were just doing what they do. What they were paid to do.

I laid stunned for a moment. And then on my back as I laid there, I saw the open skies. The deep blue calling. I heard for what seems like after forever, the soft brush of the grass against my face. The smell of moist earth swirling up into my senses.

They say, that a pig can live all its life not seeing the sky ever. Ever. Except on the day it dies.

I feel like that now. Not that I am dead. But that when everything is denied of me and when I am forced to lay back and stop everything I had been doing. I see the skies.

Blue. Pickled with drifts of clouds.

Calling me, beckoning me warmly. Affectionately. The earth vanishes. And all I see is the open sky. Calling me on and on.

I have never felt free than now.