Windsong

She runs with the wind and sings with the fireflies,
and smiles sweetly while dancing in the rain.
and I,
meager I,
fearful I,
watch from afar- another day with another fear.

"Raise your eyes to the heavens!" She cries.
"Is it not beautious?"
I look.
I see but the sun.
The blinding sun supply surrounded by drops of glistening raindrops.
Sheer brilliance and resplendence, enough to make my face turn in shame,
yet still she smiles while dancing in the rain.

Fighting fire, I hear the song of winds-
the perishable pages of life and time and nature.
Symphonic Screeching and Screaming scorches my ears,
yet still she smiles
and I,
meager I,
fearful I,
shirk away- another day with another fear.

"Do you feel the cup of water?" She asks.
"the cup of all life?"
I cup the grounded-water, cool to the touch.
It freezes, placing panging pain after time.
So cold, I bear it no longer: I drop cupped life,
yet still she sings with the wind.

How I try, creature of lowliness, to be as she!
How I fly away from myself... a shadow shadowing my soul.
Awake!
Flee to Fire!
Wake in Water!
How I long to run with the wind and sing with the fireflies
and I,
meager I,
fearfull I,
Fear I find I fear no more.

I am the wind she runs with.
I am the firefly.
I am breath of life, cup of life
symphony of screeching wind,
soothing serenic psalm.