Atop a Bridge reprise

The wind stopped me and questioned my face. Softly, perfectly; like a sweet breath in every crevice.
Enticing my intelligence.
Neutralizing my intended lean, high upon this humble bridge, the wind pushes with aggravation.

Demanding my attention, It spoke; asked of a relationship... one to die for.
My ignorance, a free pass.
Living the grey, walking on the line between the rising and setting sun. Infinite twilights. Two days in a day, twice the amount of stars.

It's a different kind of grey to live; an area of complete presence and awareness of past and future.
The naked sky and it's stormy quandaries combine revealing: life is born of night and day.
All the justification to say this is my bad life and the next one will be good. Death will be good.

My hands have been clinched for a while; dirty nails digging into my palms. When I look down at my hands, tools for creation, all I see is failure and hurt, and I'm sad at the lies I've told and the destruction they've wrought.

I take deep mental breaths and idle for a moment before temptation creeps in, then, as usual I'm back to fighting, internally, the fight I'm always fighting.

Gale force winds are blowing now and I could lay in the wind completely.
It's no new thing for me to trust this much and as much as I've been hurt you'd think I would know...nobody holds you forever.

The Gentle Beast speaks again and I want to cry.
How could one refuse to hear him.?

He speaks of grandiose places filled the sweet stench of nature, a place where the 'grey' becomes a safe haven for a life of among a million brilliant.
You could see everything, all of it.
How could one refuse to see him?

There's a sigh in the wind..., then I fall.

I plead, "If you've been there forever, why stop now?"
The only answer is wind.
The bridge, the instance of my feet touching stone, gone; no longer a foothold, it becomes a small memory.

I am diving and instantly I'm acutely aware of how I was never really alone until now.

And as the fall quickens, He speaks the word "Trust" and I know.
This fall was a leap of faith and I've become the wind. 

My life flashes before my eyes, not for fear of death, but because I'm living, moving, breathing. I finally reply, blowing, moving so swiftly now, content with what's happened.

How could one refuse him? I sigh, "I came for death, but now I'm alive."

Atop a bridge there is another...leaning into the wind.