Crosswinds

The simmer of storm clouds

Between sweaty palms

Return winds to their

Natural state of chaos

Freedom held and breathed

In the voices of every withering

Heart seeking refuge in a

World of pushes and pulls

Master, what is rest

When sleep bears no gain?

Long have the hopes waited

For a night without stars felled

Within a single flicker of a flame

I have let go of every flower petal

That refused to bloom through every light

And they flutter away into dust

As I sweep myself in this state of chaos

Untouched and unbroken

“Abundance is a process of letting go; that which is empty can receive.” - Bryant H. McGill