Wind

A warm wind blows,
Blocking out the sky like a great white hand,
As I feel the wind overtake me
I feel disconnected.
Like a whole colorless fog has taken up in my lungs,
I weep, for the wind burns inside me.
It rips at my face.
Hands burnt and cracked,
Lips burnt and cracked.
Throat burnt and cracked.
No winds of change,
Nor fate, nor chance.
This wind looms over the last light
Of desire that beats in my heart.
Threateningly it gusts like a great howl,
Swelling in and beyond the reaches of thought.
Reaching its warm hand through my blood,
I breath in the wind, the white cloud.
But what would I be without it?
Who could resist the warmth of her embrace,
So definite, so infinite.
Notice beyond the tree, the sky, the sound, sight, color,
An abyss of ultimate indifference,
But only in flight on the back of this winged white wind.

Through the cloud of white wind,
Beyond the blank skies,
Sweltering, beating, pulsing,
The sun.
Sun that cleans the air,
Sun that brings me joy,
Sun that carries my heart,
I hear music in the air
Harmony of rays,
Choir of light.
The light and sun are all I have
The only redemption.
Sound and color, bathing the sky
Purify the air, blow this wind far beyond.
Sun which I long to see,
Sun which I desire most,
Sun that hides in the misty gray sky,
Sun that rises each day.
I crave what I know to be true,
And in the morning I know the sun,
In the night I know the moon.
All day I expect the wind.
Purging the burning wind from within me.

But my nervous body coils and twists,
Refusing to let go of this breath.
I sleep but I lay awake,
I see but I am blind,
I hear but I am deaf,
I cry out in pain, oh god please help me.
And I listen but there is no answer.
This wind that breathes me new life,
Sees me new colors,
And understands the darkest black.
How do I feel so changed, standing in the wind?
The wind blows past me, through me, into me,
And as its hand passes through me,
I look far above, and slowly the sun dies.
Losing its luster, losing its strength,
Dying, as I too lose the last grip of reality.
Goodbye old friend,
though I thought you would never leave me.

The law cannot control wind?
The people cannot free wind?
All hope is the sun,
The filter of my life,
That which cleanses the depression of wind.
That which I imagine in daylight and dream in the night.
That which I long for every living moment.
When all else is gone,
What will I have?
When everyone leaves me,
When everything is lost to me,
When I am lost to the wandering wind.
What would I have if not the certainty of the sun?