What happens when the breeze flows away? What was once there, full or movement, and action, passes by… there was a moment of, of opportunity. A crescendo built, sustained, then continued on its way. I was lost in my own thoughts, not paying attention to anything in particular, then was suddenly aware of being encased in activity.
Awareness was the key.
Senses heightened, all of them alive to those few moments, swept up in something larger than myself, coalesced around me. And then the urgency fell away as though my spirit were carried away in that vortex. The tempest was continuing on its way, tapering off, as a long fur-lined gown tapers and lingers as it passes by…
What existed, exists, in that moment when all was present, and what now is left behind? There is something tangible in the wake of the breeze. Not just me and my senses, but the places also left behind. We who are left behind to languish with yearning.
The force of life, the force of the world, continues on with no regard for that which does not move, although were are imparted with a delicious insight into another realm. Life passed me by and now still I am. However, not left untouched by its passing…
Not at all.
A D R A N 