Twister Weather

No, not literally. It's my internal weather that's been spinning me around, wringing my life out, blowing it back in. Atmospheric conditions of circumstance. In the end, I feel like no more than a will o' wisp, flickering faintly in the dark. That sounds sort of romantic, until you realize that a will o' wisp is bioluminescence produced by decay. 

I long for a cool blue morning, the sort that spreads out around you like a map, in which you could go anywhere, do anything, and maybe you won't, but you could and that's the point. I miss having some other horizon to look toward. 

The world changes so fast. I want to shout at it to stop for a moment, I'm not finished with the way it was. I'm not ready to fade out. But I'm only a faint flicker, and the world doesn't listen. 

Maybe tomorrow I will go out to some hilltop and try to read my future in the ever-expanding pattern of streets. Perhaps I will look at the sky and see my fortune in the clouds. Perhaps I will gather some strands of a spiderweb and start weaving another sort of life. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Note: Another name for will o' wisp is foolish fire. In case there was any question.