Where the Spirit Wind travels
Posted on 04. Mar, 2008 by Barry Hurd in Spiritual
Once, when I was younger, I imagined myself flying above cold ocean.
Gale wind carried my soul like a flurry across the waves,
holding myself as if nothing was tangible.
I remember it as if my heart had pause, as if I could no longer live,
hoping and believing for something warm, some mythical destination,
to where I would find myself salvation and sanctuary.
Once was a long time ago.
Now I float above the city, dreaming of how far my world can travel,
yearning to be something that I cannot see, a lust to be worthwhile,
to have value beside how my life sounded so hollow, so fragile.
I cared not to believe anymore, the embracing love of childhood was gone,
as if I could no longer be something wanted, simply a thing of intrigue,
for the very eyes that look past me, even through me, with simple dismissal.
My attendance was never required.
Yet I venture through to the hills, passively watching such subtle caring,
as people meander from field to family, from friend to fortune,
and I realize that they breathe my life as if their own.
I try desperately to exhale them, to break myself of such mundane thoughts,
as my world is engulfed and devoured by such futile personalities,
when I find myself consumed, and no one even knew I was there.