The wind and her...

Something about wind and her hair makes her eyes that much sexier.

I was thinking about sand and an hourglass. That bird that carried those grains to a distant shore, one by one.

For eternity.

Alone but not lonely because of a purpose however mundane. He's changing the world with each piece of sand carried in his tiny beak. And it's changing slowly but surely. Improving. Changing into something more beautiful because he is beautiful.

Like her. Sweet and young and pure of soul. White and wonderful. And if you look beneath his wings you'll see her reflected there. You'll see the form of the world's beauty because it contains her and she contains it. Complet and sublime. He'll save the world and carry her with him, wrapped in soft feathers.

They may soar to new heights and new sights. A wind-washed cliff or white-capped waves. Because from the first moment he shook his wings, that wind was set in motion and formed the rocks and the waters of the earth with its soft fingers. He formed man from that same sand that he carries still. Sand and clay and the wind from his wings became man's breath.

And man's breath and his body became woman's and she was perfect in shape and spirit. Much like her who is another image of that first woman...