The Wind

If there was a wind that could carry me off into the canyons and valleys of the west, would I go?

If there was a sea that could transport me to a solitary island with only pretty birds and flowers for company, would I go?

Do human beings need other human beings to be human?

If I step quietly and leave no footprints, do I really exist?

I am more than this body. I am more than this house I live in, more than the car that I drive, more than the plants I tend to lovingly.

I speak softly, yet my spirit yells. I watch without words, but I internalize and compartmentalize all that I see and hear.

I am a machine of sorts, waiting for the time when I am more than I know right now.

Is it possible to be god in a human form? I am the creator of my life. I am the god of my life. I choose, whether I know it or not.

Sometimes my path is crooked and blocked by vines. Do I use the machete of my mind or do I find another way? Or do I re-choose?

Maybe I should ask the wind.