You are a page flying in the wind

Grasped by those around you

They spot you in the wind

And take hold of your presence

They mark your blankness with some ink

Ink so deep and alarming

Seeming to have a permanent effect

But looking at it tomorrow

And the next day to the next

It gradually fades

You tried to fix the stray marks, the imperfections of your page

Tried to make it perfectly clear and beautiful to the eye

You try to appear steady and indomitable

In face of these ever-trying winds

But please understand

Don’t be afraid of these stray marks and rips on your page

Because what would be a paper in the wind

Without some wrinkles and marks

Made from every person it touches

And experiences it endures

As a paper, flying in the wind