I am a child after the restless wind’s fickle heart, always yearning for something new. In her never- ending journey to please me, the wind carries me to places of bountiful beauty and full of riches, and yet I am never content. For years we have been drifting and searching. Searching for a place to suit me, one to call home. For miles and miles we have traversed, through lush plains and across the highest of peaks, each one supposedly more spectacular than its predecessor. But I was never truly happy, for whenever I arrived at my destination of choice, I immediately wished for it to be another. Whenever I craved the sun, down south is where I swayed, but no sooner I wished for rain. Whenever it was snowing, I wished for sun, and so on and on.

The wind? She is very kind, but has grown wearing of my difficulty, she believes we will never be able to rest, but even so, she will continue to blow, as I continue to search. Maybe if I took the time to savor the earths salt, I would not have to, but alas, I am a cursed creature.

On and on we go, forever and long ago. Always searching, never fulfilled, and eternally dissatisfied. And although I am wretched, there is one thing I must say. If it were not for me, there would be no such a thing, as a crisp fall day. For I am the wind, its spirit is mine, and I have done everything, but waste precious time. So through the night I will go, weighing my chances at the fork in the road. Making a sharp right then back again, swirling in decision, never staying, with any one friend.