He presses and draws,
invisible yet deeply sensed,
this power that strips
the mind clean.
A moment of whipped
thoughts inside equally
Blind to everything you believed
as well as your next step.
Careful, Wind is an impersonal lover.
He will dance with you,
he will bare your heart to the fullness of life,
but he might take your precious coverings in the process.
Depositing them on distant crags
as barren and empty as your newly bereft chest.
Sometimes you have to give up your favorite scarf,
your woolen armor flying off in the tempest,
to see how indomitable the forces of life.
To give you the perfect push out of your comfort zone.
Sometimes he is gentle, bearing sweet scents of budding roses.
Sometimes he is brought on prayers, carrying cool relief for bright hot days.
But sometimes Wind is a ravager,
stripping away everything but the essence.
Baring us to hollow bone,
until we are played awake like the reed flute.
Like the leaves dancing,
pulled at last from their homes,
delighting in the freedom that comes from letting everything go,
even our attachment to life,
and letting the force carry us beyond.