Drifting
Strolling at my own slow pace
Books on my back
Wondering what it would be like
If I, like the wind that rushes through my hair,
Could drift
So many particles of oxygen and hydrogen
So many particles floating free
If I could swirl over amber fields and stir up the autumn leaves
If I could rustle through pine needles
And create waves to ride
If I could provide relief to some weary traveler
In desperate need of a breeze
If I could be the chill that runs down your spine
If I could soar into the heavens and alight in the skies
Traveling forever in forever’s own time
And somehow still maintain a semblance of my consciousness
The atoms of my being like neurons loosely connecting
those memories too precious to lose,
that otherworldly knowledge of flying, floating, living
Sensing without sight, sound, or taste, the sweet symphonic textures
Of the universe.