Air

I have woken up with the birds, here next to the common. My window is open and the air seeping in is giving form to freshness.

I am floating on it along with the songs of silence and the chipper chirps of winged first light. Summer’s in the air, everywhere I look around.

Now it is late afternoon with midday sunshine shafting through the trees and bushes as the train clicks, clacks and hisses, tossing from side to side.

I have picturesque people around me and the world on my shoulders, if I let it be. Or I am as light as air, floating freely. It depends on me, on my choices, on my now.

It depends on what part of me I choose to engage. Is everything troubled, unsolvable and exhausting? Am I choosing fear? Or is everything the way it’s meant to be, and am I just me?

Are the London rooftops derelict and dirty or quaint and character-filled? Is everyone odd or are we all even?

The leaves and clouds are beautiful. I have nothing to worry about, resist or feel separate from. I can just flow. I can allow. I can be a leaf on tranquil, moving water. I can be a cloud in a clear sky, consistent in transformation.

I can define myself not by pain induced by struggle but by non definition. I am nothingness, anonymous, invisible and silent, yet here. I am just a witness.

Now it is nightfall on the summer solstice. The day has stretched all the way and lingered a little longer. The sky is insistently blue. The night air is about to settle. Everything is suspended.

Are you breathing?