With my eyes focused up and out, I see my portrait in the sky. I see white mist seemingly frozen in time against a pastel blue ceiling with no boundries. That’s my soul. The lonely cloud.

The breeze tells me secrets of it’s plans for me. I keep staring at my portrait and it has changed. Now spread horizonatally across the sky like the left and the right hemisphere were having a tug of war over my transparent soul.

Suddenly, I feel my center quivering. The wind has picked up force and I feel myself loosing form. My portrait darkens as the force of the wind gets thicker. My circular whole bursts into little white pieces. The wind now spreads me across the meadow and there’s water falling from my portrait.

My soul shows me it has it’s pieces too. My fervent seeds and its hydratying droplets swirl in the force of the wind and finally settle near a creek. They mingle into one, my perspective and my reality. And there’s a air of new beginning. My soul seperated into all possible realities.