THE LANGUAGE OF THE WIND

THE LANGUAGE OF THE WIND

      By Travis M. Whitehead

     She rises from the depths  of the sky,

           The wind spiraling down

                   A desperate spirit racing across the world

                           Bearing her naked soul

    

     Whistling through narrow canyons

          Roaring across raging seas,                

                 Winding through alleyways and caverns dark

                          Pouring her heart out, aching to be heard.

    By human portals filled with emptiness

         Pilgrims seeking purpose

              Voyagers yearning for direction

                    Eyes set on stars estranged

         Into hibernating wanderers she empties herself

             With forgotten memories of eternity’s youth

                  Transfusing the hot blood of the universe

                       Into chained dreams desperate for liberation.

     From the confines of wakefulness,

          She liberates humanity’s slumber

                        Igniting her senses.                            

                              With waves of illumination

                                    

     Release, set free by the wind’s whisper

          And the imagination sails across the sky

                Guided by the language of the wind

                       A teacher, a student, a mentor

                               

     Imagination, the gift of eternal youth

         With time’s shadow lingering nearby

                The wind bears visions of discarded gateways

                      To pyres of resurrected dreams

     Where the cadences and melodies

           And the rhythms of life

               Beckon the wandering student  

                      Now healed by the aromatic tonic of the wind.