I don’t remember when I first fell in love with the mist.
Perhaps it was yesterday, or right now in this exact moment when my soul caught up with my body again, after doing a twirl in the space between cloud and light.
Descending, I re-attach to form and confess to my ears: I prefer being seen in hazy hues, like the mountain when he’s shaded in cirrus-cloth whilst resting.
I resolve to save the notes of crisp and clear for my sense of smell and the time travel pathways of taste, only.
Show me how to be like the sky in darkness so I glow from within, without any more effort than it takes to breathe.
Teach me to dance in the shadows of the universe with my wings unclipped, rhythm in tune with my heart-drum-bass, so I always know how to find my way back to me without stumbling.
Guide me to where the twisted labyrinth of self-doubt-fog dissipates from pure joy borne of soul-fire, to where laughter expands into cumulonimbus bliss.