He searches for knowledge, wisdom and truth, and he'll find it there where the wind ceases to move.

Quietly, I sat in the morning, listening to the sound of the birdsong outside my window. Coffee was perking in the kitchen,  and the fire in front of me was licking the wood. I watched the flames leap higher. Ghostly images of flame and smoke appeared and disappeared like mist on the lake outside my door. I sighed, because even the beauty of the fire and still of the morning only reminded me again. Of that day, when the morning started just as gently. I was unknowing, happy. But then...

I walked slowly, as if I didn't really want to reach my destination. I wasn't sure I actually did. I breathed in the cool, crisp air and tried to relax. The air smelled of honeysuckle and roses. The sun was just recently risen. It shone brightly, and warm in the sky, It was one of those gentle, quiet days that makes you feel peaceful and calm. I tried to breath in the calm. But with every step I took, I could only feel more nervousness.

In the calm of the morning, when the wind was still and all was quiet save for the occasional cry of an owl or beat of a bat's wing, here, at that time, I sat, quietly, reflecting on my life. Sometimes the best day is the day you accept. The day begins as it did the day before, the sun rises in the sky, the stars disappear. Clouds turn into mist as they are chased away by the warmth of the morning. There are days when you know. You realize that this is the way it is, and the way it will remain. Sometimes that's what you want, Once you accept your day, your life, you can move forward, not backward. Today wasn't one of those days. But I wanted it to be. 

I light a candle, and set it afloat,

Out over the sea, under night's cloak, 

I hope that they'll see it,

The light I have wrought,

I hope that they will feel it,

The warmth of the spark.

I have not seen,

A love such as this.

I've never lived,

A life that's so rich.

So I light a candle, set fire to my heart.

Hoping I'll see

Where I can start.

I hear the rain falling,

Softly, gently.

It falls on the roof above my head,

Like small stones pounding down, and

slipping off the eaves onto the window.

I listen, and I wait,

For I know that more will come.

And as I wait, I hear it.

The thunder,

Rumbling in the background, like a big cat,

angry at being disturbed.

I listen, as the storm approaches. 

The rain gets harder, faster,

Pounding down from the sky, on the roof,

through my heart.

Louder and louder,

And then the crack of lightening.

Till all of a sudden it stops.

The rain lessens,

The light reappears,

And the world becomes bright again.

The storm never last for long.