Wind wisp

I am a floating being. My purpose is floating. I do so with unmatched grace and joy. Each movement of my surfaces parts the air in carefully measured but playfully chaotic patterns. The endless possible shapes of my movements are my canvas, and my existence is rich with the stories I paint in the air. I do not see, only feel my movements in the thick aether and hear the parting of molecules before me.

I am lost in the purity of my existence. But eventually I am drawn, perhaps by my autonomy or perhaps by benevolent forces, to lower airspheres and calmer winds. I find myself settling slowly upon a different material – a groudnedness in contrast to the usual lightness that has been the backdrop to my entire existence. I gradually become aware of where my body meets resistances unfamiliar to me, and my senses twist and form into shapes more concrete and angular than I have ever felt. I am, for the first time, in reflective sentience, rather than pure existence. 

I open my eyes and find I am lying on my bed in a ray of sun, waking from my daydream. 

I realise I have done this before and will do this again, for all eternity. 

Still, I wait for my return to the air with childish apprehension and hope.