the vibrations of nature,
in which all are born and made in conformity with, and to;
it could be
an evanescent spiral of wind,       or
a tornado storm of thunder,         or
a firey warm cage of a campfire, or
a lightning bolt's string being plucked to a percusive slap.

they speak way more true than I.

I seriously can't help but lose this human form
in tune to the wind through my hair.
he, an escapist or a realist?
a good question, I often question,
is there a difference?