when the time comes to fly

Impossible to seize or apprehend,
existence, sometimes awe,
others horror, or joy in pure present tense.
Life, sometimes a pearly sun,
a laughter, a shining blue sky,
sometimes a crying alone,
a sad melody,
a rummaging into the heart,
just to check that it still beats,
lest it be...

So heavy sometimes, yet light,
so light you fear it will float away
like a balloon flees from the soft fist
of a child.

Impossible to pinpoint too the pain.
And the hate. Yes.
This desire for violence that raises its ugly head,
rencorous and vindictive agains a world
that demands and exacts the most henious
and senseless sacrifices.

I definitely need to get out more
in search of a state of blessing,
a healing loneliness, or I'll have none
when the time comes to fly.