She Dreams of the Wind...

A young girl sits on the windowsill of an old abandoned schoolhouse watching the wind persuade the rows of wheat to dance. Quiet and pensive she gazes outwards across the vast field as the ripe sun melts across the horizon. She knows something that no one else knows, but its her little secret. If you asked her where God was, she would look at you quizically and say 'why, among the clouds, in the roots of the trees, resting on the wings of bees.' She is always with company, but not the kind one can see. A smile crosses her pretty little face, her eyes full of inocence as she imagines floating in space with flowers all around singing hauntingly beautiful hymns to her. The breeze through her brown curly hair indicates that time is meaningless. Although the moment has a very surreal quality to it, she is more alive than the millions of citydwellers leading their mundane lives in a state of monotony. Although the girl knows nothing of matters concerning life and death, she is aware of her mortality. How her blood feels as it is fed to her body by her heart. The tingle of the rays of the sun on her arms and neck. She understands that a grain of sand in the desert is significant and unique. That even a droplet of water can alter the course of an ocean. She was born with these ideas. They have always played their games in her head. The girl doesn't wonder where her imagination or her fascination for all the creations under heaven comes from. And with every breath taken, she experiences both a profound feeling of peace and elation. She is more than content being just the way she is: resting on the windowsill of an old abandoned schoolhouse, looking at the wind dance with wheat.