May be it’s jelosy, stoned minds hard like rocks not moving with small things, breaking when the hurricane tears off them from the land they rooted themselves to.
I want to be far about the clouds, where this same air gently blows as I catch the gulps with my wings and reach even higher like Icarus towards the sun. Icarus himself struggled for daring to fly this hight about the peaks of the rocky mountains. The higher you fly, the harder you can fall if your wings are not ready for an elegant landing.
The ones stepping out of the path has always being looked down on as betrayers of the laws of the world. But as they disregard the voice of the crowd, they change the very foundations of the world.