To Dance...

I'm running as fast as I can, darkness and winds enveloping me. I can't fly away, and if I could, it wouldn't matter because the sky is dark as well. Everything is dark, like black ink spilled upon a colorful painting, its dullness sinking through the canvas, working its way in through all the fibers. As I keep running, the ink keeps moving, keeps sinking, keeps becoming one with the painting. I suddenly realize that I am the pen, and I am running the ink across the paper.

Fillled to the brim with my endless fears; fear of wind, fear of darkness, fear of uncertainty, I force myself to stop running. As soon as I stop moving, everything freezes. The ink stops in its tracks, the winds can no longer be heard, and the page is only halfway darkened. There is still light; still color. Still hope. I must make myself calm down, I have to breathe. Carefully, slowly, I sit down and cross my legs, closing my eyes and breathing.

I try to remember a place where there was light. A place where there was a lot of light, and I was happy. I realize light does not come on its own, but perhaps if my mind is solid enough, and my will strong enough, a memory or emotion can make light a reality.

Suddenly, I see myself spinning upon a stage, gracefully, smoothly, gliding across the surface. My heart is giddy with joy and pride as I perform every step, every jump perfectly as planned. A pink light appears, bathing me in its romantic glow, and suddenly, as if on cue, the wind comes into the picture. I should be frightened, I think to myself. The wind is large and tall and powerful. It can push me to the floor and rip me to shreds and ruin my dance. But I'm not scared as I expect myself to be, for I don't anticipate its strength. I simply let the wind fly as it does, over me, under me, and around me. It gently caresses the colorful sash hanging from my sleeves and carries the tips of my toes far across the stage to unknown corners of the universe.

But how can this be? This is not the wind I knew once before. The howling lost soul that comes to me every night, that begs for something I can not give. This is not the vicious crowd of ignorance and despair that comes to me with its envy and insecurity and desperately tries to push me down. This is something different, a calmed wind that dances with me, moves with me, bringing upon new warm glows and different variations of color I've never even seen before.

As soon as the dance is the over, lights pop up everywhere and small children cheer happily, applauding the performance. I've shown the wind where the light is, how to get to it. That's all it ever wanted. A place to dance freely upon a lit stage that shines like a star in the sky. Perhaps... there really is a sailor after all.