I’m looking out over the jagged edge.
Eyes glazed over.
Retreated into my head.
Absorbing the scene into my mind.
The trees that bend and sway, snapping at each other with their branches.
The water that writhes and runs over the rocks with relentless ease.
The gray swarming sky splits apart to hurl the frigid droplets of water at me.
It runs down my face, my arms, my back, and legs.
It’s smooth and calming paired with the searing pain of the chill.
An icy knife cutting me slowly to shreds.
The wind tosses and turns.
Always restless, always searching.
A force bound to the beauty of nature.
Left alone to wonder the Earth,
But never afraid.
Detached from the world.
A churning mass in my chest.
Waiting.
Wanting.
Watching.
An endless need to find…
Something.
And it can be free.
I can be free.
We both wait and watch and roam,
Always looking,
For that something.
That will set us free.
I start to wonder to myself.
Is the wind I’ve always known just the souls of people like me,
Who were born to wonder,
That have finally been set free?