A poem for anon?

Some things take on a totally different meaning when you look at them years later.

I found this poem in an old folder, from like a million years ago. I'd written it when I was in school. And today, when I read it, I wonder what was in my mind when I wrote this. Who is it addressed to?

God? But I was never really a believer.

Or was I talking to myself?

Or perhaps I was addressing life itself?

What could it be? I have no idea.

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Existence

In the evening
as I sit watching the sunset
And the blue sky
with streaks of red and gold
Scattered with kites
each one of a different colour

My eyes look up
to the red one flying the highest
Bright it is, and ambitious
with a desire to touch
the upper limit of the sky
The wind is its mate
taking it higher and higher
till it is just a red dot
in the vast sky

"Isn't it flying too high?" I wonder
But the child holding the string
does not pull it back
and in a struggle to escape
and fly yet higher
the kite suddenly frees itself
from the hold of the string

But without the support of the string
down it comes, and fast
and the children below
watch it falling, and wait
and then rush towards the spot
where they know it will fall
each one wanting to possess
this rare treasure
that has seen such heights

Numerous hands tug at it
and it is torn to pieces
The little boy looks on
at the kite that was so bright
so colourful...
But not any more
Even its owner couldn't save it
from losing its existence...

I watch everything
and I think of you
Understanding comes to me
that my life is a kite
with its string in your hands
lending support to me
Neither too firmly
nor too gently

I fly in splendour
in a search for heights of success
You make sure
I am flying, as I should
And when opportunities arise
you loosen your hold on the string
and let me fly like I wish to fly
as if there is no string
to ever pull me back
You let me attain the heights I yearn for
The heights that I can reach...
The heights I should reach.

But…
As soon as the winds of ambition
begin to take me beyond that height
you pull back the string, gently
so that I should not separate myself from it
in a bid to rise higher and higher
For it would mean
the same fate as of the red kite

I would fall
down... and fast...
to such a depth, where like the red kite,
I too, wouldn't be what I am today
And then even you
like the red kite's owner
would not be able to save me
from losing my existence...