Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live like the wind. Have no purpose. Have no care. Have no rhyme or reason, and be capable of striking every emotion possible... a gentle, calming breeze, a strong, terrifying gust, a cooling breath, a warming pulse, a chilling draft... everything, you can be as wind.
My grateful eyes shut, and finally my mind releases into the loving arms of my mind, of my captor, of my love and lover. Of my Ukala.
My world has become to thrive. It has seen the face of adversity, and it has seen the proof that one can survive the destruction of old and live once more with purpose. It has seen what comes after, and what comes after is so beautifully incredible that it gives my world hope, meaning... purpose.
My world is not a child. My world is not innocent. My world has taken the pain and the bad and the evil and the mistakes and turned them into building stones. I sit in a barely covered field of the palest green. The world has begun to bus in tiny spurts of colour, but I can tell that i'm afraid. That i'm still in need of something. I look up at the dusked sky, at the constant swirling energy that lives forever in my mind, the pulsing purples and blues and greens all intertwining, pulsing and entangling themselves. The colours form the shapes of people... a man and a woman, caught in each other's embrace. The woman's leg traces the form of the man's leg as they stare into each others' eyes, their irises a pulsing, glowing orange. They love each other... somewhere, somehow, I do too. Maybe. Not in a literal sense, but somewhere there's a part of me I must like. Something that makes it all worth it.
I turn, walking to the empty bed of the river that once flowed. No water flows from it, and no water is scented nearby, so I slide to the bottom of the gently grown riverbed, to the green grass at the bottom. I lean on the river wall, looking at the ground. I can see glowing bits of energy flowing from the ground, softly rising through the air like embers in slow motion. They rise and spin with each other, each it's own little life within my own, and they dance over my skin before I tilt my fingers upward slightly, letting the lights go and disappear into the now night sky, up to join the energy up there, after all. To be with their maker, their mother, father both, their heaven. I wish I had that, but no... I am okay with not having it. I can save myself... I can save it, can't I?
My fingers lightly trace the bud of a small purple plant, and I lean down to breathe gently on it, knowing that my breath gives it hope to survive...
Survive..
I want to be a survivor, to nurse my wounds on the fly and fight the good fight. To be uninjured, to be determined. To have heart and soul and mind and body in sync with one another. To stand, unafraid, in front of my worst fear, this shadow that infects everything that I have tried to save, and to tell it, FUCK YOU, you are not my master. You are not my fate. You are neither my ruler nor my peer. You are no part of me that I will accept. You are fear. You are cowardice. You are betrayal. You are pain, and I don't need you anymore.
I let it in before. It left me scarred, scared, and weak. Never again. I will build this world and I will change it for the better....gently. Peacefully. Without backing down... and I will have the courage to do what needs to be done. It is spoken. It is now true.
Beautiful Reader... do you think I can do this?
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