Wind, like a torrent, rips harshly through the crashing waves
Birthed unknowing from sources unknown
Thrust the soft clouds
Pound the rocky shores
Twist the weary trees
Placed as if by accident, squalling into circumstance it lashes out
Angry not at what, but why
The deepest frustration is existence without purpose
Such fury, like life, cannot last forever
White, foaming crests, rolling heavy and spent into the shore
Thundering. Powerful packets of rage. Each a fading sign of life before death.
The hotness cools, the rage dies, the fighting calms. Struggle gives way to stillness.
Land accepts the resignation of the wisened, dying gust
Having spent its holy anger, it flits almost peaceful
Grasses sway in green and yellow waves undulating over the seaside meadow
Ripples of somnolence. Again unknowing.
And so breath breathed gasps mightily into existence
Unfettered, it fights and struggles raging without purpose
Spending itself to build waves that will fall on unaffected shores
But who can shackle even the weakest breeze? When has a gust lent itself to a prison?
Invincible liberty. Every breath ends in a meadow without a trace.
Unknowing, we die.
But freely, we live.