The Kite Flyers- Intellectual Shaman

Storm clouds were building,

enormous towers of foreboding,

blocking direct sunlight, while the mist sparkled in the air.

Fields in Paradise Park were harsh green;

rays cutting through the vapor,

rainbows vanishing to reappear.

Kite flyers flew their colorful diamonds against the thunderous backdrop,

electricity in the air,

with their black trench coats billowing behind them.

Children ran through the fields with daisies in their hair,

as I walked into the tall grass and lay down.

I was invisible there, with a good book, staring into the afternoon sky that looked like it might suck me up into the churning storm.

My imagination poured across the pages,

as wolves chased cats in the clouds above.

I was awake and dreaming in the wild grass, blowing, like the sky didn’t know where it wanted to go.

That’s when I saw it, a flyer moving across the sky, like its kite was a balloon, taking it beyond the storm.

After it vanished

I stared at the other flyers

while one turned its head towards me.

“Excuse me, but did you see that flyer sucked into the atmosphere?” I asked.

Its face belonged to a bird, its hands were talons, clutching a spindle of string,

a lifeline that might pull it into another world.

“Fly a kite,” it said. “See where it takes you.”

It passed the string to me and in that moment, I allowed myself to be swept up by the wind,

waving goodbye, to my roots on the ground,

choosing the storm and sound,

adventures striking at random,

never hitting the same place twice.

for more from this creatively robust spirit, click on over:

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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