Nature's breeze

"He remembered that they were but flesh, a passing breeze that does not return." - Psalm 78:39 

Among the blades of grass I stood, or rather, lay. Face pointed resolute to the heavens, I lay relaxed and at ease, listening to the sounds of all things around me. Chirping birds, swaying trees, my own heartbeat. The sun and its rays did not relent, but neither did I.

Nature is a wonder in which wondering is natural; wondering is key. Sometimes I think that the world around me has shifted me, changed me into someone I'm not. I have become a master lock-pick, making nature's key pointless. I wonder why I wonder, if nature's key is pointless. I wonder, I wonder.

The sun sits high above all else, taking its throne as king of the open skies. Kites and airplanes compete for the crown, but they stand no chance, they probably never will. Nature has always been king because nature will always remain.

It felt like minutes, but hours had gone by before I realized that all was silent around me. This feeling of silence, of knowing that I was in control of an extremely breakable possession, I felt empowered. But I didn't move, not a single muscle in my entire body. The breeze was in control, in control of my worries and my fears.

Each breeze whispered comfort into my ears, telling me all of its secrets from all the years it has been.

They continued coming, passing over me and whispering secret after secret into my ears as I listened intently.

The first breeze introduced itself to me. Oddly enough, I recognized its voice-- it was me. Its name was Failure and it told me of all the ways I had failed, all the ways that I had come up short, every single time I should have completed something and hadn't. I lay listening closely for the whispers, but they were gone.

The second breeze came along, with an accent much like my own. Again, it sounded just like me, but its name was Regret. It told me everything that I had done, that would make me cringe at the mere thought of those memories, and it whispered it in detail. Just as I thought it would never stop, the breeze was gone, the whispers ceased.

Again, for a third time, a breeze came along that sounded identical to how I sounded. With much respect and adoration for my bliss in that moment, it introduced itself to me, its name was Shame. Every sentence that Shame whispered, every memory we recollected together made my heart heavy with ache, weighing me down to the ground. I couldn't get up, even if I wanted. Shame grew tired and just like the other two, its whispers stopped.

All grew silent as I was in that field. The breezes didn't whisper a single whisper. Failure, Regret, and Shame had gone, gone to torment someone else. Not me though, not me.