On still nights I can hear
the wind in solitude breathing,
roaming in habitual journey.
It goes through cycles
with murmurs and tantrums.
I remember that in a dimmed sunlight
the wind envelopes my sides.
My scarf and blue ribbon sway at large,
flowing and spreading out, wings
if only I learned to pull at freedom:
To finally become free motion through
bits of particles bowing decisively