The Wind always feels so free to me

I wonder daily about life and its peculiarities, the sense of unfulfillment versus stability.  The deep-seated longing but not knowing what it is or where it comes from.  Is it a culmination of reality versus subconscious or simply selfishness and narcissism?  Perhaps a genetically related prone-ness to sensitivity or it is environmental.  I sit and wait for windy days, they don’t come too often but when they do it’s like they take me away too, to another place. I long to feel the wind on my face, it’s a reminder that I am here, alive and it never hurts me the wind even if it’s strong, it always feels so free to me.

Bombardment of and impossibilities that make you want more yet feel less.  Is it possible to sustain without passion or is it age and the surrender to infinite stability of the known?  I often find myself sitting at an open window or door, allowing the breeze to caress my skin to let go and imagine so many possibilities a sense of freedom.  Yet confined to obligations and the pursuit of others’ contentment and happiness.  I wish the wind would take me too, it goes wherever it likes and always comes back, it knows no schedule

I can be happy sometimes too, fleeting those feelings are, yet I often wonder why I can see the sadness in another’s eyes, or pain or aloofness.  Is this a gift that I have or perhaps my own projection to another and it all may be fantasies and illusions in one’s mind? Then the wind may change its path and come back as I long it too.

It always feels free to me, it always allows me a minute, a second an hour, or sometimes two, to be free with it – oh take me with you too.

 

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