The Wail Of Wind

The wail of wind whistles through the mind

it bewitches in its blowing breath

until all you think is being a sail

who soars forever upon a current

far from the perils of thorns,

deeply driven to cling to clouds

be a feather who rises beyond storms,

gently floating in serenity

apart the problems that bruise.

 

Only wind is a wisp in reality

never lasting for a lifetime,

eventually we all must land again

learn the pain of fleeting flights.

 

Tomorrow we’ll wait for the next breeze

in hopes it will somehow never stop,

though time finally erodes that notion.

At last seeing those gusts as a mere momentary rises

above the place we have to live.

 

When the feet hold onto that understanding

those soft airy caresses

remain a pastime you savor

instead of a drug that will never wear off.