Caught in the Wind

I am no more than a whisper caught in the wind, that moves my amiable spirit over the land. This I know because of where I once came from, but now progressing further is where I must go. A silence no longer exalted is all that remains constant, but soon mirth or approbation will take place. Wanted is true of approbation, and embraced indeed, nevertheless silence will always furnish safe haven. Wind can span the lengths of the desert, bringing forth testaments of forgotten travelers. The most puzzling question arises from this, whether to persist to notoriety or remain content with peace. Peace obtained through multiple means is lost, so simplicity exists in the realm of such winds. Coveted is the prize of splendid wealth, yet no gate of cleanliness can be seen nor felt. Soon the winds change and become pompous gales, where I may possibly finish through faulty design. A desire for back track ensues prophetically, such a return to the old manners of formative wisdom. Dreams upon dreams are yearned for each day, and few if any regard minutes as gold. One by one another soul expires in vain, with much to show in a material fashion. This material fashion remains barren at best, for lacking truth of what's inside is tragedy's own right. Once prospect is all that is given to each personage, so make haste with life and give what you take. I am no more than a whisper in the wind, but now I appreciate the beauty within. Written October 9th, 2001 © on Oct 09 2001 06:23 AM PST   10 • 0 • 13