Writing The Wind

We write the wind within our soul,
a breath blown by the heart in fantasy’s gust,
floating upon life’s breeze to the soothing sky of whims
that we long to soar by the delicate wings of hope.

Wanting to find that cloud to fill the emptiness
where the reviving seedlings of dreams,
which can rain the showers over our days,
making the soil in our heads that is so dry
become a fertile paradise, enchanted and beautiful.

Each wish is a thought parachute gliding towards heaven,
softly caressing that spellbound golden realm,
wandered while wearing the sandman’s gown.

In the stillness of reflection we hold the stems of our desires
being the flower whose beauty gives us sure pure joy,
gently releasing its petals as butterflies,
praying we can follow them from our cocoons.

Feeling the mist of peace clinging to the moment
because we didn’t stop loving the featherweight power of visions,
happily aloft on a carefree exhale of imagination,
alive from never giving upon rising above the weeds.