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| Fire |
It breaks over my body like a rising day. The warmth of, the burn of, the living flame of what words have yet to truly capture. I’ve heard it in a song in that bar that uncatachable untraceable bar of tones of melody of harmony blend in such sweet cloying sanctity. It sounds like hope that burns in fear, breathes in smoke as it reduces all else to ash.
I sit I pine and I want and I wonder. The only thing as sweet as having what you most desire, no even sweeter still, is that moment before it comes to be. In wanting in pining we live we thrive. In needing in seeing in craving we are what was always intended.
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| Water |
It consumes my space like water in a dream. Flowing freely into every crack, every crevice every single space reshaping itself to fill all of me, changing my core rebuilding my texture. What was once some is now all, what was once in parts is now just me. Flood is the word that comes to mind, flood it does, pour till it overflows saturating all around me, rivers running, raging and roaring, rapids freeing caging enjoying.
I am only kept by what I allow to keep me. I am only captive by the vessel I choose to inhabit. My walls I discover as I flow past them. My boundaries I invade by running right over them.
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| Wind |
It blows through me like a frost bitten wind. Its light and lithe, a whisper and a storm. It cradles me in intent, passive in its care. It tears at my foundation swirling in cacophony. Unseen power pulling relentless at the seams. It whips it wields it shakes it steals. Swooping diving wrapping and writhing it clears the space in its own time to understand the calm that centers how it strives.
I flow on the current of the will that is eternal. Through the push and the pull of unseen lure. My limbs move as if on their own violation. I fight the tug but none would be undone. Either light as a breeze on a tepid spring day or with the rage of the storm cresting for play. Temper my will my pause my pain, continue to build the strength and feed my flame.
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| Earth |
It buries me in grains harvested from the depths of my being. The long planting season roosted many nights ago. The moon tended the soul, the sun foresaw the dawn. In grit it pushes to reach new heights. In rock it solidifies the sediment of eons of understanding shaping and molding firm foundation for all that pushes. Planting a growing, reaping and sowing, from this place rise.
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| Elements |
The earth as my canvas, water my brush, wind be my motions, and fire my paint. I’ll paint you a passion that you have never seen. It will shake your foundation, twist your space, overflow your dreams and smote your fate.
