Red Deer,
Most beautiful of cities.
Endearing with your people,
Moving with your nature.
My heart misses something,
Without the freshness,
Of your breezes,
The gentle lull of movement,
The feelings of... HOME.
The snows may be deeper,
The winters may be longer,
But the majesty of Spring and Summer,
Erase the cool remembrances.
Even in the winter,
The silence of the snow,
Is a whispering moment of glory.
To be able to hear nothing,
But the sound of your own breathing,
Is a heaven not found,
In a bustling, frantic metropolis.
How I long to have those silences,
Those moments, those remembrances.
How I long for... HOME.
I watch the bikers go by,
flying,
free.
I remember what it is like to fly.
I started out that way, wings spread as I caught the air.
Then, all at once,
I was struck through the heart with an arrow.
I spiraled down to alight on the ground.
As I fluttered helplessly, an evil man with a stick came and battered my body,
broke my wings,
bashed my head.
Now I lie here crumpled and wounded,
watching the bikers go flying by.
Darkness.
Velvet softness.
The sky lightens,
Creeping quietly.
A sudden burst.
A piercing shaft.
Sunlight floods the world.
Sunrise fills my soul.
across another, I close my eyes. I hear the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the leaves, the
lilting birdsong. I open my eyes and look into a sky so blue that I wonder if it envelopes me in
its own world. I am one with nature. I have found the part of me that has been missing so long.
I am at peace.
