The wind keeps blowing.

Through the tree branches mottled with daisies.

Under the canopy of stars twinkling like lambent lanterns.
……………………………………….

He stands at the edge of the roof of a posh hotel

His heart frozen like an icicle hanging on the roof.

So stiff

So sharp.

………………………………………

Peering around, he espies some specks of light cast by the street-lamps flickering in the distance.

So flimsy

So fickle.

Just like his moodiness and the flood of childhood remembrance and nostalgia that whiz through the tunnel of life.

Unreal

Apathetic

……………………………

"I'm a dragon chained to the wall in a cave

Yet I’m supposed to be flying with my wings flapping about.

Above the plains

Across the undulating hills.

And bathed in rays of sunshine projected by the sun.“

He says sotto voce.
…………………………………………………………………………..

The wind keeps blowing.

Jarring.

Messy.

Just like the cauldron of incandescence and waves of desolateness gnawing at him in his heart.

It’s agonizing.

It’s disheartening.

……………………………………………………

"I feel like flying, away from the shackles of conformity and parochial thinking.

To a place where angels strum their mandolins and birds warble the joy of life,

echoed by the sound of the ringing harp from Polyhymnia."

………...........................................................

So he jumps.

like a bird flying from the pebbled pavement.

So he flies.

Like a dragonfly gagging to fly over the surface of the rill and chase cones of sunlight.

So he chooses freedom over mind-control,

Just like a stricken-looking traveler pining for the home.
….,………...............................................................

The wind keeps blowing.

Unyielding ,

Discombobulating.

He is flying in the wind.

Don’t say he is headed towards oblivion.

He is flying towards the salvation or reborn.

And towards the world of eternity.

Unfettered

Euphoric.

He‘s free.

He’s reborn.