As the wind blows

Just like the wind

that blows,

so do the fickle

shifting breezes of

my heart

and my soul.


They sweep

across the plains

of my mind,

the mysterious mountains

of my memory,

and the foggy valleys

of my feelings.


Some days the sad

and the lonely gales

of despair

bring an intense

and overwhelming chill.


On other days,

the whimsy of the breeze

and the warming flame

of the risen sun

bring remembrances

of the joy

and the gentle heat

of the life

I’m living well.


As the wind blows

so does my awareness

of the eternal breath,

not only in those hysterical

and uncontrolled moments,

like the clanging of a storm,

but also in the quiet flow

that defines the sacred variety

and the deepening mystery

of who I am.