What is it about a windy night that sets something off in me, stirs up some quiet ancient mystery that lingers in my bones, that sleeps in my nerves. Makes me feel a little drunk, a little stoned, a little out of time.
I am restless. the middle of the night. the wind making music, all for me. I cannot sleep. I cannot turn away. not when the world is whispering her secrets to me, in the dark of the new moon, tussling in the trees, dancing their melancholic chorus, burrowing deep. It’s so loud and so so quiet.
Can you hear it too? Come. Look me in the eyes. With the wind as our soundtrack and your fingers… oh, your fingers, working their magic, seeking and finding, soothing the ache, stroking the sweet. slow and steady you are, a calm among the noise, a rhapsody outside my window, a symphony in my head. Be ready. For I will get lost in the wind and the wave, but in the crescendo of that one moment, you will know all my secrets.
And when I surface once again, I’ll find you. And with our eyes locked, I will go down and make you forget it all.
until the next windy night, when the wind awakens something inside you, something beyond memory. Come, I’ll help you remember.
