Question Air 8/19/08

A lazy breeze, overwhelming gale force winds, blustering blizzards.

Air.

Gasp it in. Longingly sigh it out.

Inhaling the idea of what could be or what once was, exhaling a scream for what is.

The best thing about having hair (H + AIR = hair) is feeling it flirtatiously fondled by the zephyrs.

Skin just lives to be tickled by the invisible breath made from stirs in the atmosphere.

Does the same breeze come around to you twice in one lifetime? Are there new ones, or are they the same gusts that danced across time, maybe bumping into the likes of Marilyn Monroe or John Lennon along the way?

Imagine drawing in the same breath that exited from Adolf Hitler, would you choke on it?

If you exert a yell with everything you are, will that air penetrate time and send warmth to the ones you lost? Or, perhaps, a chill to the ones that lost you?

You can hold your breath, but does it hold you?

Air can't be ensnared no matter how hard you try to catch it; it's ALL free – for now.


Currently listening :
The Sun Is Often Out
By Longpigs
Release date: 1997-02-25