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MIjake
M/Michigan I can only ever write when I'm alone, and I'm wholeheartedly unsure if that's a good or bad thing
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The next time you wander through the Forest, give attention to what makes it live. From towering oak trunk to timid wisps of grasses, Wind blows through. Though rampant branches jut in chaotic cacophony, wind calms the fray: harmonic, swaying, symphony. To refer to Wind by her name seems almost unfitting. Product of the sun itself, impossible to be un-felt, Wind pervades. She's a comforting breeze on a calm day, who soothes whatever goes wrong, forever on the mind when she's gone. Perhaps Wind could be better called by a name that captures all her beautiful, ceaseless soul, twisting through life. My Love, they should call the wind Mariah
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May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
Wind
The next time you wander through the Forest, give attention to what makes it live. From towering oak trunk to timid wisps of grasses, Wind blows through. Though rampant branches jut in chaotic cacophony, wind calms the fray: harmonic, swaying, symphony. To refer to Wind by her name seems almost unfitting. Product of the sun itself, impossible to be un-felt, Wind pervades. She's a comforting breeze on a calm day, who soothes whatever goes wrong, forever on the mind when she's gone. Perhaps Wind could be better called by a name that captures all her beautiful, ceaseless soul, twisting through life. My Love, they should call the wind Mariah
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