High above, in the trees where I sit, the wind shares its secrets with me. He tells me things I shouldn't repeat, though their glory I could wear on my sleeve. He doesn't mind if I believe or agree, he only desires to be close to me. To feel my eyes when I speak or the tempo of my heartbeat. I do not care if you think I am queer because I sit above all that is near. What I know is that the one who causes the tsunami to grow, has chosen my heart to bestow his passings, and I treasure this more than your blessings.