The Wakening

The fog clears

The dust is wiped away

My eyes can see again

My eyes blinking rapidly

Reality swiftly being comprehended

As my eyes focus my heart quickens its step and my voice long forgotten rises into my throat sitting there like a little orb wating to be set free and fly into the air

My ears twitch slightly lightly humming as I begin to catch the voices of the things about me as they too come to life

Awakened finally from their deep slumber

My hand slides from its position from whence so long it has been locked

My fingers tingling slightly as I draw my hand slowly through the air

All of a sudden I stop

All movements even my heart seemes to freeze its stepping

But oh to my relief it is only the wind

Oh what a welcome feeling it is

It glides through my fingers like silk

It blows my hair about me like a small tornado and it caresses my face gently

With a touch as soft as a doves coo and a smell so delighting and intoxicating as that of a newly opened rose

Alas its form doth decieve me and hide from mine eyes

For though I try persistantly I will never truely see the form of this delighting visitor, who has the uncany ablility to cause me to stop everything to take in its presence

But odd is it not

That all of the senses can feel its presence

But the eyes they can not see it

For it has no physical form and oddly enought for me to take it in

I must close my eyes and let myself take in its being

I must deprive myself my sight so that I can see with my other senses.