The Wings Of The Mind

faced with a blank wall
the mind pass through it
over the fences
it goes beyond
kicks and jumps away

reinventing wings and
sharpening claws
on its personal journey
into the unknown
more real that what can be touched
by the hands

too theoretical
ephemeral
as one wakes up
for another usual morning
the fingers close upon a fist
laid upon the navel

one preaches
what is here inside my fist
is real
the wings in my head
are upcoming
unable to flap
resigned.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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