The wind whispers, ‘it’s going to be alright’. Life holds me like the stars holds its stars. Strangers bring me their light, smiles like golden hours. They fill me up and carry me.
But when I allow myself to be completely alone, I feel an emptiness. The scars deep inside, I can feel every inch of them. I taste the blood inside my tears. And their is no one to carry me, to hold me. I wonder is it because I don’t need anyone? Or is it because I have been forgotten about?
But maybe it is meant to happen, when I’m grey and old. When I have exhausted every strength, lived every ‘me’ time to its fullness. And the wind will whisper to me, ‘he has arrived.’
Don’t get caught up in all the dialogue, the drama and confusion.
Feel the wind brush against you.
Feel it’s breathes in between your finger tips. Let it touch all your softness, and all of your edges.
Listen to it whisper to you, its freedom.