Life is as fickle as the wind,

Spinning you upside down one moment,

Sending you crashing down in a dizzy tornado the next.

Friends are as fickle as the wind,

Running alongside you until a warmer front comes along,

Leaving you alone and cold in a barren, windless plain.

Why does the wind leave me stricken by a heartless hurricane?

Perhaps it is because hurricanes have only a single eye, and not a heart.

Perhaps mercy is left and ignored by the wind, like a leaf caught on its busy coattails.

Perhaps this is the way of the wind.

The wind cannot be still.

Forever restless, it tugs and toys with my heartstrings,

Blowing a gust of dandelion seeds to fool me, and then rushing back with storms

again;

A whirlwind of confusion as it swells up and swallows me,

Lifting me up and up and up;

Showing me how small I really am and how huge the wind is,

Showing me that I am just another leaf, wrapped up in its blustery breeze,

Held aloft by puppet-strings as it blows a torrent of trickery against my cheeks.

So when the wind drops me, and I free-fall to the unforgiving earth,

I close my eyes and go peacefully.