Anchoring

                    Is there an uppermost border 

                    of escape higher and higher?
 

                    Is there an ideal state, based

                    the torn words yet can relate

                    to material vision's image?
 

                    Is there a connected mind

                    with control and harmonized 

                    intent of a grounded system?
 

                    Or your runaway spirit just flies

                    up to stratospheric skies,

                    torn hawser flutters behind

                    far from everyday life,

                    floating words' elusive breath,

                    their meaning lost in the distance

                    before joining my receivers,

                    selves ignore each other's cry,

                    dreams can not be realized

                    without anchoring the slipped-apart parts.