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Filling up the spaces in between here and there,

a wealth of empty spaces full of air

and I’m running, through all the wondering,

wandering free.

Freedom can be scary – having no place to rest

flitting from one to another, which is best?

Nothing feels right;

too large and too tight,

so I’m wandering free.

Watching others touch down, find a place to fit.

Perhaps it’s an instinct? Something I have missed.

I keep running, searching and  wondering,

wandering free.