The wind holds secrets for the martyrs of Zagros
This wind twists and coils its gnarled branches around the luminosity of virtue
This wind is the grail of sacred truths, the golden path to Zion
This wind is a cavernous void ceasing matter from existence
This wind blows eastward, into the mountainous ranges of Babylon
This wind is the seed of Yerushalayim, the fruits of her labour
This wind is testament to the gaping skies, the rapture of Sun
This wind cries "the esteem of your amoral tenor is undone"
This wind is our masked iniquity, yielding the figs of their torment
This wind is not the raging waters of the Caspian Sea
This wind tears the tender flesh of my cheeks, whipping crisp breaths into my eyes
This wind whispers to the rocky shores, forming a helix ascending to the skies
This wind is the foreboding gust of exuberance propelling the rebels to the gates of wrath
This wind stems a crown of barbed wire around the skulls of the fallen
This wind is hisory's unsolved mystery
This wind blankets the protruding bellies of a ravenous child
This wind begins to disintegrate into the soil of matter
This wind is the guile jester that juggles the rat and the owl
This wind drowns the dust of the earth with the wine of the sedate
This wind yearns for people to walk with the living