FLYING CARPET (Part 2)

Not all freedom is chosen

She floated again,
but this time, reluctantly.

The carpet moved as it always had,
through trees, over mountains,

carried by something that did not ask.

She used to move with it,
the rush,
the shouting into the wind.

Now she turned away.

The carpet did not notice.
The wind did not care.
It swayed right.
Dipped left.

She resisted.

Until one day,
the gusts came harder than before.
Her lungs burned
as she shouted into the air,

Let me go.

The carpet dropped.

Falling.
Fast.

She closed her eyes,
waiting for the ground.

At the last moment,
it slowed.
Just enough.

She touched down softly.

Stood.

Breathing.

And watched
as the carpet rose again without her.

She followed it
until it was only a speck,

and then, just barely,

she saw a figure
swaying with the carpet
as it dipped
and turned
into the wind.