Taste of Vapor.

Mind flight low over the jagged ground, more like swimming than soaring. Pushing through the icy clouds and eating them like snow. Controlled in the understanding, accepted knowledge of this secret ability. Now with open eyes and clear skies, the thought are different in their placation. Metaphors and meanings now. Interpretations come at last with their own dialogue on how the future should unfold. Now whether dreaming or awake, I am but buoy, free to float in the expanse of possibility.