Essence Of Freedom Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Breezes whistling through the trees,
jostling their branches and leaves.
Air moving quietly against my forehead
and blowing my hair in every direction.
Feeling an awe-inspired quiet grow from
within, changing and altering my spirit,
turning it away from what in the past it
has always been.
Writing down the insistence of it's
sudden existence, and fondly touching the
sensations with my mind, caressing and
letting them go for their freedom is more
important than self right now.
Nourishing this spreading silent
anticipation throughout my being, will one
day be the essence of my final self.