Like the wind

Does a star question its place in the universe? Does it question the celestial order of things around it? Does it wonder, yearn or grief?

Perhaps I too have accepted my place but is it possible to unfeel? Can emotions be bottled and stowed away? 

As if one can choose to forget. I remember too much. I remember how lips curve into a smile, how feet are crossed at the ankles, how hands are folded over laps... 

Too much has taken shape, too much have resided for too long within the fortress of my heart. 

The winds will only die when the World itself stops spinning on its axis.