Some people don't want me to fly.
They want to keep me grounded,
to be able to control my clumsy movements on earth.

They know that if I spread my wings and go,
they have lost their power over me.

I love them.
My soul is crying in the pain of the farewells.
Yet I can not stay: my soul belongs in the sky.
Only there I can spread my wings and reach my future.

I don't want to be hard.
Yet I am not able to love them if I stay.

They do not realize that I have already gone.