Who are you?
Who am I? Hmm.
Well, I’m the wind. Multi-layered. Difficult to grasp. Often astonishingly fierce and tear-jerking. I am without form. An ill-defined apex and a tufted cocks-comb.
I am that which resides in the deep corners of your intellect and tugs at the strings of your heart. I enchant the hidden flairs of your vanity and enrich those stolen but forbidden moments of passion.
I am your pilfered love that can only be relished in secret, then, discarded until the next time. Your hidden gem with whom you can only commune in the mask of the dusk.
I am the sail that howls in whispers and bears you, gently, in subdued but loving platters. I am the voice of your ego and the catalyst of your visions.
I have no name. I have no face. I have no shadows. I am the faithful tree whose shades embrace your height and whose stumps stretch out to bear your weight.
I am the unknown comforter. The towel that dashes at the droplets of your eyes and the unknown consort whose cold logic and warm embrace you seek in secret.
I am the wind beneath your sails, matched only, by the frugality of my abundance. The concealed carry that springs your feet. The AR17 that emboldens your strides.
I am your reluctant acknowledgment and the strength that enfolds your bones. I am that which you seek in the hush of the dusk and consult in the startling of the storms of the day.
I am late to time but quick to your present and for your sake, bear the mockery of a lisp-stride.
I am what I am!