Tonight the wind blows;
the sky bursts under its weight;
the energy is immense,

and it is conscious.  

My mind splits;
my spirit lifts itself into the wind,
which drinks me in, to oblivion.
Thunder cracks on the horizon,
lighting the sky,
rippling in its immensity.  

Everything is subtlety, supercharged;
in nature, everything bleeds into itself;
in the ether, the wind blows backwards,
and consciousness is gravity
anchored to eternity,
streaming between the energy of thought.  

The wind has been blowing all day
and when I breathe,
in a different dimension,
where air shares a kinship with intention,
it caresses me; enveloping me physically,
restoring feeling to those parts of me
starving.  

I am too small to hold myself.
I am nothing, intermingling with being.
I am a raw throat;  
an aching thirst that cannot be quenched.  

I am water in its various states;
its many cycles.  
I am an ocean.
I am a puddle.  

I am limitless
-ness
drowning in the deep.
I am gasping for breath without lungs
to be seen.  

I am me, not being.
Who am I?
An unlabeled simplicity.  

Why complicate the mind?
(The heart, it aches to find
belonging. Only ever longing,
forever found in everything
surrendered unto nothing.)  

Can opening my eyes but rend me blind?
(The light, it’s all encompassing;
the white, forever bleeding into,  
fields of you; there is no you.  
Only truth can set you free.  
Die become eternity.)
I cannot.  

I must breathe it to believe it.  
Need to let it go to know.
Need someone else to show it to.
What’s one without two?