Let's Fly

I'm obsessed with this notion of flying. Butterflies drive me insane, you know? Every time I see anything to do with spreading your wings I get all tingly with joyous bubbles.
The thing is, I don't believe in heaven. I might believe in angels, but not the kind you learn about. Mine are more like stars, little glimmers that ebb and flow with the universe even once they've burned out. People call me a hippy. I just laugh, because what is there to be other than that? Isn't that the goal, to circulate back in with the universe? Become one? I feel that that's everyone's goal, we just call it different things. For me, I have a pendant that hangs from my neck, reading OM. Isn't that what it means to fly?
Many have turned flying into institutions called god and allah and jesus and zeus and buddha and everything else. I choose not to look at it as an "it", although that is fine. The beauty of a freedom. I do ask myself however, why are we obsessed with illusions and pillars and welcoming names that comfort us? Why can't we just fly?
I assume love is a type of flying, when emotionally you feel so fulfilled that your soul soars into the sky. I assume I've never been in love, or if I have, I only just brushed the clouds. I didn't actually leave the atmosphere.