It's windy here
I noticed the wind shaking the tender, new leaves of spring roughly.
The boughs looked as if they were shivering on this gray, chilly,
They were dripping with rain
and it looked like ice.
I thought about the wind and how strange it is that something we
cannot see can shake the trees. How odd it can make me shiver and a
chilly morning even colder. The trees were my reminder that the wind
comes and goes as it will and I cannot summon it nor can I diminish
it. I can only experience it.
I don't know where the wind comes from or to where it goes. All I
know is that it is.
It makes me think about my life. I don't know where I come from and
I don't know where I'm going to - all I know is that I am. Where
yesterday went and where tomorrow is, I don't know. I do know for
sure there was a yesterday but I do not know for sure if there will
I am like the wind. I have affected others because I am. Others have
affected me because they passed through my life or because they are
passing through it right now.
Like a gentle summer breeze you hardly notice, people have come and
gone in my life and I scarcely remember them. Others have come and
gone but I'll never forget them. I am better, or worse, because they
touched my life. One thing they all have in common is that all those
who have touched my life in the past are like the wind. I don't know
where they came from and I don't know where they've gone. Some of
them, like the wind, shook the boughs of my life; some shook me
gently and others shook me harshly - but all that remains now are
The wind can wreak havoc and destroy entire cities; an unimaginable
feat for something I cannot see. I wonder how many other things I
cannot see that have such power?
I feel so out-of-step with the world this morning. But I feel in
touch with memories of yesterday, and in touch with the wind. I feel
that today I belong with the wind and memories, and other things I
cannot see but I can feel.
I don't know where love comes from and if love leaves me, I don't
know where it goes - all I can do is hope that it comes again. I
think I know that if it comes again it will never be like the love I
before. It may be better or
not as good, but it will not be the same. The difficult part of that
is that I have to accept what comes - and what goes.
How very strange it is to sit here and watch the wind that I cannot
see. I cannot see it but I can watch it. Like an apparition, it
sneaks into the day and then sneaks away - and when it is gone I
have known a wind that will never come again. For tomorrow I may
feel another wind and the trees may shiver again - but the wind that
blows then will be tomorrow's wind - today's will have blown away.
I don't know where I come from and I do not know where I'm going.
All I know is what I can know and that is that I exist. Maybe that
is why on this gloomy morning in May I feel at one with the wind.
Watching the grass wave and the trees bend as they're touched by the
invisible hand of the wind.
How strange it is that something I cannot see
touches me so beautifully.
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