Not Kept.

Not hurtful things

Or grief-ridden things

Or dangerous things.

Just secrets in their essence--

Things that no-one ever knew.

Things like dancing in the rain

By the ocean in a place that mostly all the world

Didn't know existed,

Dancing like a bird

And singing, but

Campfire nights were always special.

That night

The wind curved back, setting shimmers in my eyes,

Blowing the sand and sea up in a whirl around my boots,

Blowing fears like grains of nothingness from the the tangles that weren't in my hair,

Blowing hopes and dreams and words into me all at once as it went,

That wind.

That wind brought me wandering all the way down to the biggest of those

Tall, proud, indestructible boulders

And that wind twisted sound in its grasp,

That wind played with the air's vibrations,

That wind twirled it and softened it and broke it into little shards of

Twilit crystal.

That wind could bend the limits of time and space,

And there it was,

Helping my fire into my eyes again,

And toying with the air.

And then,

That was when

I flew.


I had known how all along.

That night,

I soared.


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