kneeling on the prow I feel
this special kind of freedom
the wind in my hair
the billowing solar sails
the creak of the wood beneath my feet
stars surround me
high and low
left and right
a blanket of coolness and indigo
don't wake me up
wait,
it's not a dream
it's real life
how could it be?
the magical sense
of flying
of gliding
of soaring
of...
of...
freedom
