Monday, June 17, 2019

prose poem - 'I can’t explain the wind, and why bother'

I can’t explain the wind, and why bother trying? Like us, it begins somewhere and ends somewhere else. Always traveling, and in a hurry. Does the wind need a reason? No, it just is. Outside just now, the wind felt fine touching my face. And I am not traveling anywhere, I'm staying right here. Why? I just am.

10 March 2019
17 June 2019

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