Winding Intelligent Never Dying... Wind.


Down the quiet street,
The wind slowly crept,
Easing its way down,
Through those old,
Colonial houses.

The wind spoke
Of an ancient time.
Timeless winds,
Of ancient ones,
Breathing mysteries.

Although changed and polluted,
These winds still blow.
The same ones that blew
In the garden,
With the serpent and the son.

Strange winds reveal things.
My youth. My ignorance.
My uncreative decadence.
Vindictive hot winds
Searing my hardened face,
Turning me to sand.

Oh ancient winged servant;
What have you seen?
What do you know?
Where have you been?
And do you return there soon?

The winds know not change...
But smell, temperature,
Humidity, pollution, pollen content,
Oxygen, Nitrogen, Halogen.
And various dust particles.

Unrelenting, untrusting,
Undermining, undenying,
Unexuberating, unreaching,
Wind, Wind, Wind,
WIND, WIND!

Most knowledgeable of
All gaseous forms...
You, breath of God,
Blew the first of
These small winds.

Tornado, Hurricane, Vortex spinning
Dust devil, Waterspout, Tsunami,
High Pressure, Low Pressure,
Cold Front, Heat Wave, Wind.

God, show your winds
to be all that you would
have them to be...
an elemental force,
in your wonderful creation.


Copyright 2003 by pauly hart