It used to be
that there was always
something for me
to climb:
ladders, mountains,
cubicle heights.
At some point
I looked out
the windeow
calmed at the sight
of open space.
My hand in the wind,
reaching out to the flat
planes of the horizon.
There is no up
or down,
forward or backward.
I am shining now
in this space
or I am not.
I am here or
I am not.
The gradations
of the light
and anything lss
than my
presence
does not
matter.
Image from www.expat-repat.com
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