The Confession of a Dandelion

There. The step into the air. It was easier than I’d expected. Much easier. And I feel as light as dandelion fluff. Let’s hope I’m not considered a beautiful weed.
The solid ground is somewhere behind me; I’m not looking back. A seemingly bottomless abyss is somewhere below; I’m not looking down either.
I’m levitating, drifting, unable to say where I’m going. You are the wind now, mingling with mine, keeping me high, in the air to see the light.
But if the fluff gets too heavy, blow away and let it fall, will you? Now I hope it won't.