i started off learning from the wind.
and, like the wind, i slip-streamed by
and gazed into windows from afar.

all i've ever done is flowed and felt,
and to me that's enough to be magic.

everything i've learned is from listening
quietly
and finding where silence isn't.

that voice amongst the white noise,
that howl in the still darkness of night,
is my teacher.

beautifully my heart aches,
when the emptiness
is infinitely more haunting
than the ghosts that drift in it
as memories lost to time.