Wind & Fire

I want to be in a place where they paint their roofs and doors and graves the blue of sky. Though it may be to confuse the evil eye, it helps me feel at one with the stars in the heavens above.

There is such effortless beauty to be found in that expanse.

If my soul is like fire, if I thrive near the palace of sacrifice, then maybe my spirit is like wind, for I need it to breathe, to live. Without wind, there is no fire.

To return to such a place brings me back to the beginning, back to the story of creation, of why we were all placed on this Earth as vessels of the same dust and clay as our home, to the Breath which fills my lungs.

They say if you feel a particular longing for one of the four holy cities, it might be because you are made of the same essence as they are.

I came with such a desperate longing, my heart awoke, alive as if for the first time. Now it is always searching, yearning, trying to find a way home.

Maybe then one day I’ll return to the city in the clouds, where my spirit can soar in its flight to touch the sky.