The Wind
By Linrose
A gentle breeze sings past my window ~ As I sit in contemplation; Its lilting voice, towards me, does flow ~ As I seek to touch creation; My mind then fills with images of past ~ As I long to explore my fears; The breeze becomes the wind at last ~ As I step back through the years; At first, the wind blows in so teasing ~ As I see sweet memories of my youth; Then scenes pass by, which are less pleasing ~ As I ferret out the truth; That's when the wind begins to whistle ~ As I face demons deep within; It shakes the blinds and flower trestle ~ As I explore secrets, full of sin; The wind now howls against my head ~ As I struggle to meet my soul; My heart has felt its fury and bled ~ As I shear the way towards my goal; The wind then makes a thunderous sound ~ As I reach that blinding light; Then calms itself in view of what's found ~ As I bathe in the bliss of that sight; Now the wind is a gentle breeze once more ~ As I balance between matter and spirit; Then it quietly leaves through my front door ~ As I reflect on my connection with it. Written September 15th, 1990 © on Oct 04 2001 03:59 PM PST 0 • 13
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"A gentle breeze sings past my window ~..."