Low speed starts the whispering
A slow
Reluctant glide
A quiet breath of yesterday
You thought had finally died
It circles like a warning sign
You never meant to read
A soft voiced echo in the dark
That stirs a buried need
Medium wakes the trembling
The air begins to sway
Old heat crawling up the walls
Like shadows learning prey
You reach up out of instinct
But fear begins its chant
You try to stop the blades
But they’re too fast
High speed is the reckoning
A storm you can’t command
A wheel of time that spins your life
Beyond what you had planned
The past becomes a hurricane
Your breath a brittle stance
And still the fan keeps turning
You try to stop the blades
But they’re too fast
There’s no chain to pull
No switch to break
No mercy in the air you make
Just the restless turning overhead
The past in fevered dance
And every truth you tried to bury
Rising now
Without your chance
So you sit beneath its orbit
Letting memory take command
Letting every spinning shadow
Draw its map across your hand
Because storms don’t stop for trembling
And winds don’t wait for fear
You try to stop the blades
But they’re too fast
And then
In the hush between rotations
You finally understand
It was never the fan
You were reaching for
It was the past
And that’s the one thing
You can’t
Ever
Grasp