Without a rocket I cannot reach the stars.
It's the truth, is it not?

If I could, by nature, fly, fly I would-
fly away to a quieter place where my voice can be heard, and every word is worth listening to.

Where I am now my voice cannot be heard- but why?
I can hear other voices, each believing itself to be superior to my own.
Perhaps that is right, and my voice is truthfully inferior-
but even so, I wish it could be heard.

If I could fly, fly I would-
fly away to a quieter place where I can hear the river, at last a sound worth listening to.

If only the rushing river could be heard where I am!
I can imagine it right now;
there would be fish of any color darting through the sharp cold water as they swim about,
being so happy to be in a place untouched by human hands,
unstained by poisons like gasoline.

If I could fly, fly I would-
fly away to a quieter place where I only need to look and never again to think- no more thoughts are worth my time.

Hidden away and with no voice,
I had too much time to think and think and not to speak.
To think and think so long is to no longer desire to speak-
but now-
now I wish to speak and speak and never again to think.

If I could fly, fly I would-
Fly away to a quieter place where life is, for once, worth living.

To reach a place where all you're told is truth is so much better,
where no one will say you can reach the stars,
only to be disappointed later.
Who would not want to fly away,
and never be disappointed again?