Change

I can feel it...The imaginary breeze that flows through the air, invisible, virtually unknown to everyone except myself.

It starts out as a gentle wind, teasing with tendrils of thoughts, prodding me bit by bit, hoping that somehow I would be able to feel it and hear its soft whispers and heed its advice. The tender wisp of a caress was sometimes too gentle, the words too soft that humans cannot feel it or hear it.

Then the eddy came. And the squall. Next was the gale. With all these, it was impossible to ignore, especially when the dark legions marched over the skies, blotting out the light and raining the rage and sadness of the mother Earth upon me, who suddenly felt so small and insignificant.

Storms come and go and the cycle begins once again, the breeze gently prodding.

This time I will not ignore it. I shall take the gentle hand and hold it. I shall hear the words and affirm them. Having experienced the folly have ignoring it, it's time I start doing something.

It's time to change.

Perhaps it won't be easy, perhaps I might even give up...But somehow, I know the King has brought the wind to me and no matter how great the storm is, I shall keep thinking that I can stand like a house built on rock rather than sand.

Going on to more mundane things, I felt the pangs of pain again in my chest. Can being drunk with too much melancholy and gloom really cause substantial bodily damage after all? I shudder to think about the possibility.

Which is why I'm going to keep trying to think good thoughts. Happy thoughts. Thoughts of bliss without the nasty side-effect of wondering if they will really ever happen or if there will be obstacles in the way. When the time comes, then I'll deal with it.

That's the way it should be.