I was tired of that little window that only framed a small fraction of a whole. Leaving too limited a perspective of a reality that expanded with a much broader spectrum. But that I was not allowed to know.
I was tired of that low ceiling. So low that it would not let me stand up straight. So that I will not forget that I should not look at the clouds. But that was not low enough to get to kneel. I suppose that I could never reply to that stay of a possible imperative submission to a will that was not mine.
And you know what ? The door that kept me there was never locked. I was never his captive. Maybe it was the respect for that small but nice place that kept me there for decades. Maybe it was the security that offered me to that incessant rain and the lightning that could be seen through the drops of glass.
And now that I'm out, I can not describe it. But you know what? ... I can see where the clouds die and the stars are born.
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Happy day to all the people of Steemit
Post made by: @Diego-ar
