Free

The music takes hold and I drift away on the high notes of flutes as they trill bird calls over the great waters in my mind; slowly I transcend into being one amongst those calling, soaring, looking down on worlds of my own creation all the while. As my wings spread I am darting across endless snapshots, fantasies I could choose to dive into, only to wake again in another reality. For a spell I can be a Russian Tzar, a Celtic warrior, a tiger lying low amidst jungle ferns; I can ride horses across the desert under a tapestry of stars, or I can fling myself into Arctic waters and lose myself amongst the shifting blues of ice floes -- I can change shape, change form, change time and space. I can dream of another time and place where you never came to be, and for a while, I live in a world you never marred, a place you never touched. I am free of you, as I am free of all things. In a thousand other lives that exist behind my eyelids, you never broke my heart. The possibilities are endless. You have never fettered my ability to dream, and so you have never truly owned me.

I can fall into the velvet details of a rose, or a slanted beam of evening sunlight glinting off crystal, and it's like you never happened at all. The only things that exist then are myself, and a profound joy in the details of creation. They inspire, striking flint against tinder, spawning so many stories in my heart. In those stories, I find my passion unbroken.

Salvation is packaged abstractly in the subtleties all around us; full is the heart that can unlock its own freedom.