I am a balloon
tied with strings of gravity
to a bunch of people
together in a knot
of umbilical cords:
the earth
My inflated head thinks
to be independent, floating
in its own piece of heaven
(a fantastic existence
..above all the complications
..in the knot)
so full of all sensations
that I don't want to puncture them
because I'm a balloon
You know what you are. An inflated balloon. Great poem.
Thank you. As you write yourself: In this illusion we call life, ...... we are travelling. Travellers with our bags packed.