I am a whisper in the endless blue sky, born from the quiet clutches of a cloud's embrace, slipping through the veil, falling softly, feeling the pull, gravity's warm invitation. Do I remember the ocean, where depths cradle warmth, where I dance with others, laughter in the form of waves? Or do I think of the earth, the sandy cradle waiting below, each grain a lover's touch in the vast solitude of the desert? Murmurs of the Oasis.
There are questions everywhere, trapped in the pockets of sandy air, asking what's it like to cradle life, to be a river in a world between moments. Do I fear the heat, the relentless sun? I remember, I remember, how warmth is a kiss that makes me dance, evaporate, fly anew. Echo of the Whisper.
The dune shifts underfoot, an embrace as ephemeral as my own, formed from a whisper, slipping steadily into the realm of dreams. When next I fall, perhaps I will land amongst sprouted joy, tiny worlds cradled in green tendrils seeking the sky, yearning for touch, for life, for a fleeting moment of being. Direction of the Wind.