And He Was Gone

He chose to walk alone. Though others wondered why. Refused to look before him, Kept eyes cast upwards, towards the sky. He didn't have companions. No need for earthly things. Only wanted freedom, from what he felt were puppet strings. He longed to be a bird. That he might fly away. He pitied every blade of grass for planted they would stay. He longed to be a flame. That brightly danced alone. Felt jealous of the steam that made the air it's only home. Some say he wished too hard. Some say he wished too long. But we awoke one autumn day to find that he was gone. The trees, they say, stood witness. The sky refused to tell. But someone who had seen it said the story played out well. He spread his arms out wide. Breathed in the break of dawn. He just let go of all he held...and then he was gone.