To let go

There is a new kid in town and he has golden spurs attached to pointy cowboy boots. He is larger than life in the night-time, but in the harsh daylight he thankfully gets smaller and more manageable. Most cities are too big for him, he needs the wide, vast wilderness in order to feel life properly underneath his feet; the air whipping his lungs, every breath a frenzy sucked from his body almost violently. His happiness is tied to that wind, to change and to the costal waves crashing in from the sea. He opens his hands and gives you the rainbow and he feeds you sunshine (even though he has none himself). Suddenly you feel less alone and suddenly you want your own set of spurs even though you’ve spent a lifetime making fun of them with your friends. In this moment gold is the only way to be as he softly takes your hand and asks you to just surrender.