You can't see it, but it's name is pain.  Far underneath where dreams are made.  Where dreams are crushed.  Like a broken rib, it will pierce the heart, ripping through anything to do so.  The raging beast might tease, but every time a victim comes to play house, it'll end in bloodshed.

So where to build my home?  Under the graceful willow tree, who's boughs will shade and protect me.  Beside a river that will quench my thirst.  Under a sky full of stars that will make me want to dream.

Or do I choose a desert?  Camp on the ever changing shade cast by rock formations.  Find water by the heat of the night, lit by the full moon.  Where roots grow hard and deep, where the sun might kill the bud.

Or might I find a meadow?  The wildflowers blowing in a gentle breeze to wake me in the morning.  Hiding under the grass that grows over my hip.  Breathing in the smell of fresh rain and grass.  Watching the clouds saunter by.

For now I stake my claim on the wind.  Wherever these fronts may take me I shall roam.  Today the willow tree will hold me, tomorrow I might walk through the meadow to spend time in the desert. 

The heat may burn me.  The dark might bore me.  The beauty can blind me.  I still am. The world is tearing at my exterior, trying to take my soul. I search to find the one who will hold my pieces together.