A Benign Sojourn

I felt a little numbness
And a cold wind through the strands of hair
Left free under the blue sky

Did the trees sense my freedom?
Or do they sway like this here all the time?

Flying like the spirited birds,
I flow towards an unknown reality
Where i concur with harmony
And rest my frown beneath the oblivion.

It was my celestial home,
It was my mystic Ithaca.