My Wings

My Wings

Miles distance, with apparent feeble attempts to show truth and sincerity. The fog thickens.
It is becoming increasingly more difficult to have any faith in the path in which I want to take.
The soles of my feet feel the cool rich earth pulling me in deeper and deeper.
The more I struggle the more I become a part of it.

I need to fly. 
My wings may be slightly torn but if I stay in the illusion, 
I will become permanently grounded,
entrapped in the the vines of a typical life.