The Wind

My interpretation of what it would be to be like the wind.

Hear the melody of the wind... soothing, inviting, and it is calling out to me. I try to answer but my voice is no more, my screams are swallowed back, I am trapped within this crust of restraint. How I yearn to join it, to be released from my earthly imprisonment. I want, no need, to break free from life's shackles that keep me here.

I can picture the freedom... to fly with the wind. I want to be the one that cues the trees to dance. I want to be the one that orchestrates the placement of the clouds in the sky. I want to be the one that is depended on to soar through the heavens. I want to easily manoeuvre through every nook and cranny, to go unseen, stealth. I want to be mysterious, questioned. I want you to know me by my whispers and ghostly presence, but nothing more. I want, no I need, to be one with the wind.

I hear the melody of the wind... no longer soothing, inviting, it now mocks and shuns me. Here I remain in my earthly state, forever to feel like I do not belong, knowing I do not belong. Wanted by neither side, here I rot in purgatory.