Uncertainty floats in on a feather.
Distant from its winged home, surfing the current, no will of its own.
Gently tossed and twirled over days and weeks, eventually finding itself at rest—
Never knowing how long its pause will be before it's lifted up again.
When a feather finds you, you must pick it up.
Its whisper is only heard at your fingertips.
"Be light and drift. Ride the wind. You always land where you need to be."
The feather knows.
Now you know too.
Let the breeze take the feather.
Let the breeze take you.