Today blows
the wind is whipping
all the shutters closed
yet gusts of dust roll through me
not cutting
nor biting
but blustering breezily
as though I'm not there
as though I'm not aware of such zeitgeist climates
as those that I reside in

I am not here
and the air won't give me oxygen
as I'm caught within a cyclone of my own
Mine
that is me
has been me, mostly
no longer

On this day
let me be wrapped in aerial vestments
the warm west rekindling my breast
the cool east resetting my bones
bring me back from the brink I breached so long ago
and let my solid form settle the storm