Discovery of Self

I've never been scared of the wind. When your roots extend down into hell, into mirrored cores, you have no problems standing on cliff ends and harping on the gust to catch you if you happen to tilt twenty degrees forward. Colorless and invisible, yet felt viscously against my skin... I breathe into its essence.

There are battles brewing, bent on destruction, and I too have always felt those. I have been built from them. I can stand within the snapping, tonic in hand, and smirk in appreciation of the size of your fangs.

Freeze time for a second for me, dear, you have a speck of dirt on your gums. Let me fix it for you, dear, you look much more menacing with a proper gleam. Go on, scare the next pupil. I've used your spit as moisturizer in my younger years. I'm much more privy to your tears now. Mine bubble with venom.

Absorbed toxicity... consider it my immunity.

My emotional circuitry is my weakest point. I feel too much.

My emotional circuitry is my strongest point. I feel it all.

And thus I stand here, in this discovered centerpoint, arms extended and face gleaming into Father Blue as ravens swirl within the wind's colorless gusts. I'm envious of them, in a way. They glide, effortlessly spinning towards the direction that suits the canyon's bliss, whereas I... I am rooted.

I am rooted within purpose.

I couldn't jump if I wanted to. The clock would revolt. The wind would shape-shift into formless pillows. There's a voice telling me that the journey has just begun. It is maddening, in a way, to be led by guts and a heart that bellows. Vacancy is not something I subscribe to.

A steady orange fire remains lit in my belly. I embrace my soft abdomen, imagining its internal flame growing... encompassing my heart, burning all that does not serve me, and making its way toward my throat...

I bellow!