becoming the wind.

she rose with sun.

another day in what most would think a dream

among the yellow sunflowers dancing with the wind

she realized a weed had crept into her bed

walking with weary eyes on the weed

it still stood tall with pride

as if it belonged

among her yellow sunflowers dancing with the wind

moons had passed

she rose with the sun.

the weed now stood taller than the bed it bared in

though it thieved from the others

though it had ill intention

though it had no desire to dance with the wind

it stood proud, powerful

it remained.

she rose with the sun.

To pull the weed from the plenty,

she would save the dancers

the dancers, gleeful and bright with desire

desire to grow

desire to learn

desire to dance with the wind forever

but another moon had passed

and it remained.

she rose with the sun.

many dancers had not

the wide winds swept the spirits

the last dance they danced

more and more yellows yearned for she

to pull the pride from the bed

but it remained.

she rose with the sun.

few dancers endured

the weed stood mighty

solid from stealing from the smiles of the dancers

she knew should she pull the weed,

the bed would likely last lifeless

the time had passed

it remained.

she rose from the rage of the winds.

the sun surpassed her spirits

the bed burned with no being

she had allowed the anguish

why?

the weed called to her

whispering wily

with weary eyes

she followed

the sun rose solely.

the wind wailed

life persisted as it was purposed to

the yellow dancers had faded

with the buried bed she chose to bide

now one with the wind

dancing with the scattered dust of the damned

awaiting the the sun to rise each day

though her touch had taken absence,

she remained.

One thought on “becoming the wind.

  1. Love it when you Express yourself through writing. ā¤ It was about time you got back to it! šŸ˜šŸ˜šŸ˜

    Like

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