Salted streams carried me here.
Rivulets that glistened a way towards Destiny,
I still did not understand that Destiny is a thing of motion. A frustrating concept for one who yearns to be rooted.
I would swim in Destiny.
I would tread in Her.
I would drown in Her.
She would fill my lungs and put pressure on my heart;
Ever clear that my impending death was a necessary transmogrification.
I would watch her beat on the window pane of the plane that ferried me across worlds.
The heavens cried with me the day I left my home.
I would transform, again;
Expand in an amniotic fluid of sweat, tears, dreams, memories.
Salted streams are carrying me away.
I am wading in Destiny.
Exhaling Destiny.
Wayfaring Destiny.