Wind

Clasping softly at the hinges,
Whistles enter to raise my temper,
Small winds must beckon, from unseen places
From the windows, I do suppose
Noises eerie, not so cheery
Blowing, hitting all my senses, leaving doubts and pretenses
My mind is rattled, I grow unclear
But, winds often blow from the darkened coves, striking mostly unprovoked.

Chills often arise from sites unseen spaces
They come along with unseen faces
Up they come, leaving no traces, just startled faces
Those depths of mine, which I call soul, seemed to slightly have lost control
However, I seem to have awaken
My thoughts not so clearly shaken.
I regain a modicum of control,
Some sense now hits my weary soul.

Ever bored and quick to thinking
Blissful thought of valleys flow, endless rivers rise and slow
I can see the trees, the sky’s and stars, the moon and clouds
I find myself with no doubts, wind is mostly missing out
Inspiration hits as cricks, times of action happen swift
To the windows I now must, creeping ever so not to disturb the dust
I open and draw the shades, levers pulled and windows raised,
No wind in site, no sound nor mention
I couldn’t stop to ponder lore, my heart burst out in beats and shout!

Puzzled by forsaken action, I wondered why bodies fastened
I know not to muddle, “Where’s it wrought?”
The wind in which I now sought
It’s gone, and dear, I wasn’t clear, ow where was it to go

Shaken, slowly sight being taken, darkness growing,
Loosing self to endless clout, words from the door now shout!
“The wind is for the living, endless tides of salt and sleep you shall have no breath nor winds upon you’re face, you heard me whisper ills. The kiss of death was your chills! When the window opened your heart gave out. No more winds, you are now without.”.