Whispers of the air

There’s a voice in the air, soft and low,
It speaks without sound in its ghostly flow.
It tangles my hair with invisible hands,
And whispers of a place none would understand.

It speaks without sound, yet clear to my soul,
Of a path that could make my spirit whole.
The place it points to is where my buried desires lie,
Beyond the reach of judgmental eyes.

The path it reveals is shadowed and steep,
Walled by taboos, ancient and deep.
Still, the voice insists with a trembling might:
“Follow the pull—step into and embrace the night.”

“Resist, and you shall fracture and break;
For hearts denied must surely ache.
But yield—and in surrender you shall find,
A love unchained, though not defined.”