About Owning

There is no stillness as loud as aroma. Even though I hear naught, I smell everything. And the best sound is the noise on the crook of your neck. It is louder than a tribe of cicadas in the rainforest. 

The air around me swirls and whirls. In swooshes it says to me what I seek to hear. Though I have never breathed a word like that before, I understand that I am one with every wind that blows.

What is this water? It takes up all the space, Oceanic cell filling. There at your doorstep, all woes pass, like a wind carrying dust, it zings around you stinging your eyes if you dare to look. If you want to, you might want to shut the door.

Freedom is something only the bold might brave. Being involved in responsibilty is a bondage, indeed ... to be occupied is to be owned by other than self.