Naturally
Wind envies water,
how easy to let
gravity take over.
Wind tires of pushing
against the world,
wind narrows herself
through cracks
of a house to find
her voice,
moan her misery.
She wants the ripple
of water, wants
a physical body,
wants the sun
to play across
her like fingers
on a piano.
She wants to glitter
like a woman
in a sequined dress.
She wants every
creature to stare
at her in rapture .
She tires of shaking
the world, to make
them see she exits.
She wants physicality,
something, a body
with a million curves;
she demands worship.
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