Lift + Thrust

Half-formed possibilities drift above me, nebulous, light,
Clouds across a slow-moving sky, vague, moody, protean,
Like interrupted dreams, ephemeral,
They fade before my concentrated gaze —

And then, below, spread dense and wide,
The ground on which I tread,
A firmament of mass and past,
Of oh, so many deeds done, half-done, undone,
Left behind, or simply dead and gone.
All the life I’ve lived till now.

Steadily I rise, but does the lightness overhead
Draw me upward?
Or am I lifted up from below?