Of Wind and Echoes
Occasionally nostalgia swoops in on me brushing cool air mingled with immense reality against my face as I breath the air of infinite freshness reminding me firmly that everything is beautiful. Because we were there once, at that sand dune with a fire between us and the lake waves dancing against the shore as the night sky moved unnoticed above us. And we were there together, the three of us after walking too far through the village and over the bridge only to return in the early hours of the morning. But all of this was something similar to a lifetime ago, caught among all the countless hours of adolescence. Yet there was more still, more moments of infinite perfection that one couldn’t understand, not unless they were us or me, however the equation plays itself in those particular moments. In my head I am standing with the wind rushing past me and the darkness shifting to evening shifting to bright sun and the soundtrack ever changing with the faces around me morphing but constantly the wind is rushing keeping reality so ever present in those moments. Because once we were there and another time we were dancing senseless amidst the nameless bodies surrounding us with pulsating rhythm engulfing us and liquid spilling from the clumsily held cups in our hands. More still we were at the edge of everything–sometimes alone–and overlooking the bottom of Earth stretching into the horizon. But always–as I have mentioned one thousand times before–always there is the wind and air so fresh it can be heard as it grazes the skin of our faces. Eyes close. Lips turn upwards. Neck shifts lifting face toward the sky. Everything is present. Beauty. Love. Hope. Contentment. These are the moments of existence. These are the moments we share. Though we shift and change–transforming–the harmony and beauty echo into forever.