Waiting For The Wind To Pick Up

1) And how would it be? A new world? A new life? A new time, made for a new form of living and a new way which is mad or madder than the madman who lives to die or dies to live.What is this? What is desire if nothing else than a spot or a place in my heart to which I swear to live and remain unfearful to die, or if at all or if anything else, who am I now or who will I be now? Who will I become now that the older versions of me have been dismissed? And so, if I am free to exist, then how can I exist when my previous world ceases to exist? And if I am free now, or if I am free to exist; then what does the world look like ahead of me? And how grand is this world now that the new world ahead of me is bigger and brighter than my fears of the unknown? Still, I go.I stay.I wait and I often pause.But more than ever, I want to go.I dream and I cruise the ideas of me, somewhere else, or perhaps I can be far, far from here in the lands where even God, Himself is amazed by the craftsmanship.I…