When in the realm of too-sentient things I hollered and flapped and broke both  my wings I wailed and screamed and beat my breast The wind blew by And whispered, “Just rest.” I screamed to the wind that there was too much to do The wind agreed, that he was busy too. “Well, how can I rest, while I’m running this race? I never get ahead, a slave to serotonin, confined by time and space, You wouldn’t know! You just  swirl around, as free as you please.” And then the wind made an amused little breeze. “Me? Where I want? … Continue reading a conversation with the wind