I sit among the winds of human souls where darkness dares not speak of storms that rock deep anguish until it becomes a fire inside you. These winds are more complete when they rest upon my tongue and get lost inside a dance crying βlet me goβ without use of a cold attitude.
No fear do I have of the years gone by, I barely knew of their passing. It seems as if their value has been exiled to a corner, left there to dream. So I can sit among the winds without a single care crashing in and demanding I have remorse for holding back the years self-esteem.
Where there is sinister intent and darkness clouds the sky, there are moments when the secrets of the wind chase the substance known as peace. I feel the heat against my body as I sit among the winds accepting kisses on my lips from years gone by, exiled............ begging for release.