Real


The blue wind whispers in the cold night sky,
Bringing false hope, can't think,
Barely breathing, it's a dream,
Had to be, for this nagging pain was never-ending,
The heart of a lion couldn't change the wind,
It blew so slowly yet caused such pain,
Moving on was more, it was a difficulty,
Hands covered in moonlight clutching a lone feather,
It fluttered and as gone, caught up by the wind,
Whispering it's sweet pain,
Things were different, changing unknowingly,
Wishing for power but all there was. was more,
More wind and moonlight,
Taking a deep breath and closing all eyes,
Only to open them again, looking all around,
Seeing It all as though for the first time,
Darkness, stars and moonlight,
And the wind felt, knowing then the wind was power,
It's pain was torture but not purposeful,
It wanted to help and it was deep,
Standing in that wind, worries and concerns,
All melted away,
To the blue wind whispering in the cold night sky,
And the hope was no longer false,
It was real.

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