And the world continues turning, on this broken, bent, axis. The sky folds and unfolds; every inch the same; every corner mirrors the next. I may be looking at the same stars, and they have aged right with me, but they have traveled the world over, before returning. And in this thought, I feel insignificant. I am just a fragment of a world turned over. I have youth in my heart, bursting with distance. Yet my feet, heavily cemented to the ground.
So for now, I can just envy their freedom, and hope that some day, I too can fly.