Dawning Creations

It could be over.
Transcending above hell fire and rain,
pain is still pain.

I’m transcending over the unending fear,
the shapeless rattle quaking in my bones.
Up here, I could look down and not shake.

The clouds are puffy but hold no rain.
Their cottony, billowing hands hold me.
I’m feeling a kind of freedom I’ve never tasted.

I can climb higher,
float above their tender hands
and reach the solemn moon
but it would be too cold,
too distant.

I’m infinate,
even when I die.