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