I'm terrible at poetry, but this is what I felt at 5:30AM:
You know when you were little kid, and you went to the fun fair, and you begged your mom to get you a balloon. From that diminutive vantage point you looked up and saw floating high above you, a gaggle of helium filled excitement.
When you wore down mom’s resolve and you finally got the balloon it was tied by it’s string to your finger, and you imagined then the force, the rising force, gravity defying force pulling up, on the balloon also raised your hand and your arm into the air. Your imagination bore the weight!
So there you are walking through the fun fair one hand clutching some sticky treat and the other held aloft by imagined anti gravity and the shear force of your will.
The day is probably sunny and beautiful come on and you anticipate going on rides, eating more treats, and you can even see yourself going home later with your new love, this bobbing buoyant, bouncy balloon---leading the way. In your child’s mind, it will be with you forever.
Imagine that a pair of tailors scissors—big, weighty, and razor sharp, obscures your view of the string of your balloon. floating up above… and then, snip.
Above the vee of those blades, those sharp unyielding blades, your balloon flitters, flutters, and floats away. Still happily Dancing… up into the atmosphere…
But below the blades, those unforgiving razor sharp blades, this string falls down toward the earth taking your hand and arm down with gravity. That loft, that joy, that buoyancy, now gone.
Moments ago when you anticipated being made whole by your beloved, bright balloon.
Moments ago when you imagined it living with you forever.
Moments ago you were filled with joy, hope, with love.
And now you're walking along dragging a limp lifeless string.
Tied around your finger, its presence does not lift you up, it does not bring you joy.
All it is is a reminder of the light, the freedom of flight, the bright unknown future glimpsed briefly and then anticipated, and then gone.
London, travel
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