The words, they flow and float upon the wind. Where they go I know not, but how I long to be as those words and be carried off by that wind unto destinations unknown. For it is surely a magical place that they disappear too, a place of no beginning nor no end, out of sight of mortal eyes, a place where dreams come true and miracles happen. Perhaps it may even be, the fabled land of Faerie? How I long to be lifted up by the gentle caresses of that wind, resisting not, at its mercy but in complete faith. To watch this dreary world go by as I ascend higher and higher.
Watching those of my kin far below as they work and toil in the lands now far below me. Oh if they could only see, if they could but raise their heads, wiping their brows of the sweat that has accumulated in that hot sunny day. They might see a strange sight of a chorus of words as it makes its way across the sky, blown this way and that, seemingly random, an erratic course, but I know there is a method to this madness for I fall in line next to my brethren.
For I too am carried by the wind and what a strange sight to behold to those below, this stick figure that blows across the sky. “
“Too big and slow to be a bird.” They would decry.
“Too small and thin to be a cloud.” They mutter.
They stroke their chins and twiddle their hair wondering at the snaking line of words that is followed by the oddity that dances and weaves its way after them. So long, so, long, my once fair kin. I have thrown my lot in with the mysterious etheric winds, and with a final bow and cutesy, I disappear from this world to the place where the winds blow not and words come to rest….
After a time, new winds blow once again into this world and the words, like a melody, flow gently upon their breeze, they lilt and hum and rhyme and speak of lands of yonder, beguiling and bewitching those who would read them. They entice and tease and flow around such persons before darting off in a direction that dares to be followed. Unbeknownst to all, the trail of words is one greater than before, their ranks are one fuller than before as I; like a dress dropping to the floor, have shed my garment and am simply a word on the wind. Lke the one before me, and the one before them and so on.
Come and join us, step into the wind, take our hand and let us lead you on a merry dance to the worlds end and beyond, where no mortal may tarry long lest they too, become a word that flows, upon the wind…
The Spirit Channel 