a plucked hair

On the heels of a gentle wind I plucked a hair upon a whim. I concocted a prayer and whipped out a hymn and proceeded to share my inner most sanctum. The tale of the greatest hair that ever did live; its life for my arm it freely did give. The song words of praise from my lips did pour until a warm breeze caused the hair to soar. Up higher and higher the ascension continued till it disappeared in the haze of my own institution.