Air (Elements 1 of 4)

light blue sky

‘Hurry, hurry,’ feathers rustling, we ride the winds, ‘higher, higher,’ disappearing and reappearing from the clouds as if flitting in and out of reality. The moisture is torn from us by our speed.

Drumbeats pushing up through the air warned us of the danger. When the sun sets it might lend us colour, but we will let nothing paint us permanently. They won’t catch us. Forever colourless, our wings will carry us to a new place, where we will live a new life.

We are not sure where we are going, but it doesn’t matter.

We shan’t be here when it begins.

%d bloggers like this: