A Time for Wind

August 12, 2008
Playing through the willows,
a melody whispers wildly
in multitudes of voices;
A soft wind just enough
to quench my thirst for air.
The smell of sunlight emanating
from everything its
slanting rays touch.
Yet, this ambiance is tainted.
Over such tranquility,
hangs the smell of sweet decay.

There rests a place upon Earth,
where I am truly satisfied.
There, where the wind blows
away inhibitions, doubts.
There, where my own
coexist with colorful creativity.
There, where life is good,
an oasis to the desert world.
There, where you are,
the invisible force holding me in.
I feel I must stay.
Life is but the illegitimate
lovechild of pain and beauty,
a game of which I am a victim.
Time is like the wind:
never at the right pace.
Today, through the willows,
it blows, carrying away
remnants of my soul.
Unyielding, the chains of time
render me powerless to stop
my own life as it slips away.

Time comes for leaving.
Chains, once holding me down
now flutter as ribbons,
in the wind through which I fly.
My soul will join me later.
Once it too unearths itself
From the ground under which
it is so solidly concealed.
I weep relentlessly,
forsaking you and this place,
as winds of change carry me away.

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