Belonging

Busy lives fill and suffocate us, our pointless struggles pitiful. Clouds drift by, time’s fleeting nature seeing it gone with the breeze. We sink deeper, watching, forlorn. People swim instinctively, toward a goal.

“You’ll know where to swim.”

“It’ll come eventually.”

Though I’ve kept afloat, it’s without direction. Do I belong here, or with distant wind chimes, laughter unbridled? I’m not of the seas I’ve plunged into, but one of unbound wind. We’re still ensnared, but within it we’ve found joy peddling, and the skies – coalescing paints of swirling galaxies, starlight, and depths unknown ? form a canvas I’m content within.