so,
there is a kite.
in the hands of a child, it flew up high...
caught in the trees, to be retrieved torn and tattered.

in the hands of a teenager, it never flew.
for it was tied down.
in the fears of losing the kite's beauty to the numerous dangers in the skies.

but
in the hands of a mastered kite flyer,
there are no fears.

sync, imagine, excite, dare.

the kite was neither tied down,
nor flying aimlessly,
it soared the skies and presented its beauty to all who behold it
and it lies secured in the hands of the one who knows how best to manage it.
always able to be retrieved and maintained

lovely sight i see in my mind
one day it may just be.