For a brief second between a walk,
Perhaps while driving,
When I feel real.
Small moments of enlightenment,
Perhaps just a second,
When I feel aware.
It's something about the wind,
Perhaps the smell,
When I feel good.
It's close to a memory,
But through my eyes it is new.
Yet strangely familiar,
Like a tune in your head that you never can whistle...
But I can't quite remember.
I can imagine it to be,
A feeling of peace,
Like when I was young.
But it's not so childish,
Much more mature,
Like when I left home.
And when I've finally grasped it,
It blows away - yet again,
Yet it again, it escapes.
Escapes in the wind...
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