Blowing Away the Days

All of this could be written on the wind, here and then gone, blown away like the days are blown away by the unceasing wind of time. You and I, we have stood here on our high hill, watching the valley below as the wind scours everything away, blowing away all those days we shared and stored as memories for the lean times.

We stood here as the rain fell and washed us clean of the dirty city that did so much to tear us apart. Just more discarded humanity left to blow around its streets and alleyways where no place is a home. Merely a refuge from the creatures that haunt the cold city nights, hiding in shadows and stretching the darkness with clawed talons until it devours everything that once lived.

Out here, we have the grass, the trees, the meadow, sweeping down from our high hill. We can see as far as seeing goes to horizons of possibility and the mysteries of what always lies beyond the limits of vision.

Even though the cold winds blow, we have each other and we hold on to this hill, gripped by our rootedness, bending but not breaking. We are like the trees that surround us, learning to live with how the wind behaves and turning each morning to face the new dawn, knowing we held on to each other throughout the long dark winter night.