Float

The weight of gravity

It’s an illusion

I float for real

Pull me back

And I’ll suit up

And float uphill

Maybe it’s the air

Maybe it’s my flare

Can’t stop the stares

Floating

It’s nice up here

Gravity

Tries to scare

It’s jealously confused

Why I’m light as air

Floating familiarly by

Its moony skies

It doesn’t know

Lovely is dense

It doesn’t know

Weightless

It doesn’t know

Life without grip

Floating

Violent bliss

Sparta

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately,

to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach,

and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear;

nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary.

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life,

to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life,

to cut a broad swath and shave close,

to drive life into a corner,

and reduce it to its lowest terms,

and, if it proved to be mean,

why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world;

or if it were sublime,

to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.”

— Henry David Thoreau, Walden