-The wind changes. It slows and becomes a breeze, carrying with it the sediment of breath. All those memories which have burdened myriad souls , the gathering of life’s moments in small clumps of what remains pressing down and into the cavity of the body, penetrating through bone and marrow,seeping through veins and arteries, burrowing through and past the hardened parts, and into the ventricles of lungs, then out into the world. This is how the wind changes, this is how the scent of morning and eve are affected, turned away from the monotony of the quotidian and begin to speak of what was lost but was so potent a possibility though never reached. This too is how dreams change, how they become saturated with lost hopes and the dust of possibility, which in the moon stroked darkness still whisper of actualization.
In the quiet stillness, as chests rise and fall, as leaves resurrect for scant moments in the twilight of rising and falling, in the ethereal moments of vanishing, of oblivion, the oblivion of the world- of the machinery-of consciousness, possibility lingers. The dust which is the seed of dreaming taps about creating iridescence and in that light a new moon with its own world to orbit. A world in which everything that could’ve been could still be, beyond the fading tails of time as it swirls around through the different dimensions of existence and presence and the reminiscence which resurrects what was imagined, what happened, what was hoped for, and what came of it all in the same way that tributaries bring their sediment to the same spot and enter the swirl of the current, together, at once.
This is the way the soul is changed, affected ephemerally, seasonally, in the same way the moon turns a blood red for a phase. And for this breath, this life is every life; this path is still undiscovered, still unworn, still; all decisions exist simultaneously woven into the breadth of life of which the breath chosen is just a part. In the dance of dimensions and decisions and hoped for revisions, the experience of life is more than the minutes we’ve consumed. It expands beyond us, beyond the grave, beyond our continuing decay, beyond the pantheon of gods, beyond the actualization of one man, beyond the limits of the soul. Everything, through unfiltered light, exists at once and remains to be chosen.
This is what is possible, what is when the winds change until the phase has passed and we no longer dream so grandly.