Time Traveler

How far must I go, from womb to grave?
My feet pass
sometimes by cloud,
often through glass.

It feels through a portal
I've suddenly come
dusting off years
as though they are one.

My love is a crystal;
pure gem on a chain,
a cord wrapped embryo
(I cannot explain).

Still,
I move, whispering time
travel through space
Stars spilling align,
I'm picking up pace.

My feet, though planted
firm and sound,
hover with ease
miles above ground.

I drop,
just a feather,
or leaf in the wind.
For my time is to matter
'fore day reaches end.

This is my 5 minute freewrite hosted by @mariannewest. The prompt is travel
Day 12 Freewrite Selfie Contest

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