THE CURE This is it. You know all the ways, the walls, the places and spaces the windows and doors. Three years of deserts with the well too close to see. As you look up in the sky you see a cloud. On the cloud: me. Riding with the wind. You can take anything you want from me. I give a thousand smiles. For free. And as I dance away beyond the blinding deafening silence of the dunes my origins call me way north into the polar lights. This is: letting go. All the colors I want. All the independence I crave for. The feelings have gone. But you know know the ways and the keys and the doors and the windows and on the wings of that wind I pass through.