Can wind be caught,
handled and tamed,
and be made to stop
where hands have laid claim?
It reaches all skies.
Gives depth to all land.
Reaches into time
and pulls from it sand.
Yet the wise men seek
to control your gale,
and prove they're naive
and utterly fail!
But they do not yield,
for to catch the wind
is a fate to steal
and love to ascend.
And maybe one time
you'll stop and you'll blow
and be only mine,
but always you go.
The ebb and flow stops!
Your torrents do cease
and the stale air drops
without any peace.
I wonder what is
and what it will be
that moment you freeze
and blow within me.
Would you feel my breath
as you move and stream?
The air that you give?
The soul that you free?
Or am I one more?
A wise man to show
wind cant be stored
in a heart that knows.
It has to be free!
But I will sure breathe
and hold you in me
for as long as I can
because of the love
that lies in this hand.
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