The wind rushes through me, as elusive as the grains of memory that slide so easily from the ruined hands of time. The chaotic urgency charges something deeply within me, springs forth a restlessness that cannot be satiated even by standing in it's fury, my whipped weeping hair and torn eyes. It is a thread I desperately hold, and try to feel my way back through the knots and tangles towards the beginnings and ends. My thoughts puddled, all in one, none distinguished and so I feel. Stand within the cold lift and feel alive.

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