I tried so hard to live in the world of normality but i preferred the wild gods that clawed relentlessly at my life and I valued my soul more than a false purpose. I always chose wisely, (or perhaps i was just chosen) because It was for these reasons I always chose: gods and soul, despite being led deeper and deeper and deeper into nothing that made sense.
Cycles twist and turn with the wind, and so, the wind will always be my first love. These directions in which I am blown are the ones I will follow. When the leaves fall in autumn I see myself in them, rising up into the sky, directed to places I cannot choose, but are chosen, and i am only to return again back to Earth, back to my gods. I fill up here, with these gods. In the forests, the hills, the sea, in bodies of water. I am blown here, I am called. If I do not fill from this spring I get filled by the heavy burden of humans, and my body sinks like an anchor to the depths, and they are not my depths to delve.
I always ask: is this mine? The heavy ones never are, and so they weigh at my soul, pulling me places that I do not belong. They ask me to work harder than one body could ever work, to do work that is not mine. I cannot do it, and i never could. It is a mistake to lend your grief to others, hoping they will lighten you. It doesn’t work. It is a mistake to give away your soul, even the parts you do not want.
And I learnt this: hold onto your soul: protect your energy at all costs.