The wind has come to sweep me away. It’s as destructive and fickle as I. But I feel it inside. A need to be broken. A need to be torn open. A need to feel alive. The calmness of summer sky is when I defined my life and now the air is changing, churning, vibrant and bright. The shell of the seedling cracks open and splits into light. Erupts countless blossoms and eventually dies. When drying it aches for that moment life burst through the soil. The moment of reaching toward the brightness of sun. The moment of loss of the comfort below. The moment of plunging toward the unknown. The moment of being swept away with the wind.