Weightless pt. 2

I move through morning like a feather caught in a breeze,

untethered, drifting, and drawn forward by something I do not need to name.

The air is spun sugar,

the light pours like silk, and even shadows have learned how to soften.

Every breath is a window opening.

Every thought dissolves before it can anchor me.

I am sky-colored, cloud-shaped, a ripple of laughter disguised as a body.

Time forgets to keep its grip.

Minutes scatter like dandelion seeds, and I float among them, weightless,

as if the world itself were nothing but a dream humming in the key of light.