She knew nothing of soaring. Wax wings could never attain great heights, nor support the loftiness of her ambitions. The breeze did nothing to lift her spirits. She felt the wind like thousands of tiny good-bye kisses, giving her weight. Never hers was the breathlessness of dancing upon the clouds, or kissing the horizon as the sun made it's debut. She could not move effortlessly from here to there, nor cast away her chains; something of which she was constantly aware.
But still she danced and danced, for hers was the gravity of knowing her steps left markings in the sand that even if only temporarily, re-affirmed that she had been there. Hers was the depth of understanding that she alone would be welcomed into the open embrace of the roaring sea.
So she lept, with baited breath, to meet with new expanses or her doom again and again. Hers had been a narrow view, framed by iron bars that spoke nothing of the approaching dawn that crept out from beneath the starlight, for she knew nothing of dreams.
And now she knows of falling.
She knew nothing of the bright, blue sky.
Kiss to break the pace;
Romance is a shallow dream,
Love to kill the time.