paintedcave

Running in the Heavens

© Gerry Gomez

by Carl Swindle

It builds in my soul

Like the filling of beakers

Up and up

The elasticity of a rubber band

Tightened to a high pitch

Like strings on a guitar

The day tension is released

I fly out of my cage like a pellet,

Slung from Ori’s slingshot

Into the hills, past the orchards,

Through meadows, thin trails ahead,

Above the clouds and Into the Mountains

Gazing down at cathedrals of stone,

At the buzzards, who drift silently in the winds below

My city is an orchestra and I am the conductor

The great lecturer, He who peers from above

Many grand illusions I endorse

Free from this rat race,

The hungry piranhas

Feeding on those who swim in Their pond

As if they are unaware of any alternative lifestyle 

But even the goldfish recognize

That one can only remain above water for so long

Bio

Carl Swindle is a full time student majoring in Geology at Santa Barbara City College.  He works part time at a shop on State Street, and loves running in the Mountains.