Horizon birds

by Ina

Always there is the horizon. And never it is making sense
It is no line, but just an abrupt ending,
a fence between the world we know and all that lies beyond.
Yet I see a line. My mind wants logic in this too grand overkill of space.

I want boundaries for my world. I need a lined out place.
Some birds escape there, flying out of what can be imagined
into another world. I envy them today. For ever gone
and out of sight, while I am standing, in reality, now lost to them.

2 Comments to “Horizon birds”

  1. “Flying out of what can be imagined” … that line has me thinking.

  2. Yor poem has me thinking, too–especially the line mentioned by beeseeker.
    Russ

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