The whistle in the wind made me turn.
I had to consider where to begin.
I flipped the page and contemplated the next stage of my life as the train rumbled down the tracks.
The caboose faded in the distance as I chose not to listen to the grumbling of my friends,
who seemed confident I was making a mistake.
But they didn’t understand that parting ways was a means to an end.
I was only passing through; that’s simply all I get to do.
And so I journey alone, I don’t have a home.
I swept many under the carpet as I blew through.
They were polluting the air, and I didn’t know what to do – the weight of the fibers held them down.
But the padding was soft; it kept them cozy and warm
until I found a path making them new so they could go through.
I explained what to do and promised I would get them home in the end where they would be free,
find peace, love, and joy & have many friends.
I often stop and look back to review the results of how I act
and noted that most had reconsidered their post.
Now proud and direct, they spoke clearly and with effect.
A few still seemed blue.
They divided white dust into lines trying to blow their minds
in a reckless attempt to grasp some temporary glory that’s mine.
I stood still for a minute, then readied myself to continue.
It was in the final second when the silence consumed me, that I uncovered the truth.
My next stage was the same as the previous page = I was the wind.
Many whistled as I passed because they knew I was fast, and they wanted to give me