Sky-Bound — a poem about lofty dreams and workday reality

Sky-Bound

Something I've secretly struggled with
is that my life comes down to this.
The dreams I built up in the air
were left without any doors,
and worse, with no stairs.

I abandoned myself in the way
that so many others taught me to.

Like the child separated from their parent
in the winding aisles of the department store,
I'm left to look and wonder why I'm so forgettable.
I'll hold that thought till evidence convinces otherwise.
I'll take the job and stock the shelves while I muffle cries.

But in the back of my mind, behind broken hearts and lies,
I birth the fresh knowledge that this is a desirable life.
It is not the castle that I constructed cloud by cloud,
but it is a daydream or workday fantasy
that once was out of reach for me.

I might just wrap my arms around
something normal, simple, safe.

And on the way, as I go,
I may find a mountain path
that reaches to an open window
into the star-clad sky-bound paradise
I long ago conceptualized in a far away life.