Calling me, it whispers in my ear and asks me the questions I refuse to ask myself. Where are the hours spent and what will the day end in if I do not grab a hold and take it for what it is worth. I must start. It is better to fall then to not have tried at all. It floats away and leaves me hollow. Waiting for the gust to fill me up, but alas, it will not come again. For I must move in order to cause it to stir. I must chase the wind.