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It's Always Been About Wind

It’s Always Been About Wind

It’s early and the top of the oak wet with dew is swaying, calling me as it did when I was a boy, and the birds, singing before we wake, are the hearts of those who’ve suffered, reborn as soft things that sit in trees.

As for me, I’ve become a hollow bone through which things long needing to be said are sung, though I often don’t know what they mean.

I have been carved out, one heartache at a time, to make a clear sound. I don’t cite this as a principle, just what happened to me.

I lean my head to the wind and my heart sings. Then I eat the song.

- Mark Nepo

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