I may sleep here,
But this is not where I live.
My body finds rest in these sheets,
Refuge among the pillows,
But the dove never does perch.
The sky is an ocean with no islands.
Sometimes toes grasp at the clouds,
Hopeful that one day, something solid can be found.
It is near impossible even to tell which way is up,
What is gravity and what is muscle exhaustion.
It has been so long since touching down,
Maybe "down" doesn't exist anymore.
I would rather fall from the sky into water,
Than trust the promise of land once more.
