smoke signals

to explain it simply: it converts energy.

it’s the structure of a home, a family, a business, a person and a society.

at one point they were an obsession, they being not just the windmill.

if you stop and listen to the wind, the desire to change is palpable.

if you’ve ever watched a fighter pilot smoke his enemy, then you recognize the gleam in his eyes as the target disintegrates into thin air.

it’s unmistakable. it’s duty flailed by wingspans of hope.

a windmill has windscreens, but none so precious as that which protects the heart, and at 35,000 feet all fire ceases to represent combat.

for a moment in time we are the wind and the degree to which we crush the airspeed of indifference is the degree to which our throttle becomes a beacon of change.