An old tale tells of a lady who wanders Earth.

The Lady who Knows Everything.

A beautiful lady who has found every answer,

All meaning,

All purpose,

And all that was ever sought.

And here I am,

a feather

Lost adrift the sky, victim of the currents of the wind.

Day after day, I search.

I search with little hope, knowing legends don't exist.

But when all else has failed me,

When all others have turned away,

The legend is all that remains - the last dim star glimmering in the twilight sky.

Until one day, the wind ceases to blow.

I fall.

And I fall and fall, and fall even more.

Gentle as a feather.

A dry quill, expressionless.

But a hand catches me, between the thumb and forefinger.

The hand of a beautiful lady.

I look at her eyes and find no end to her gaze.

The Lady who Knows Everything knows what I am thinking.

Before I can speak, she responds in a hollow voice.

"I have found every answer, all of which amount to nothing.

There is no meaning.

There is no purpose.

And we seek only the impossible.

I am not your legend.

Your legend does not exist."

And with a breath, she blows me back afloat, and I pick up a gust of wind.