After all is said and done, I will still be here looking and searching for the things that I said are more important than family. After all, is there anything more important than love? I do not think it exists; but the question of understanding and glorifying something you do not understand is horrific.
The heart is warm and the afternoon is cool with a small hiss of a breeze waiting to be embraced. I am alone with nothing and no one to hug me. I am the wind. I am the wind that feels the rumple of the trees as I pass them by. Today is the first day after many days having gone out of her safest place – the womb. I am the womb that watches over the remains of time as it moves steadily beyond the rhythm of our lives. I am the wind. With a clean forehead that signifies beauty and charm beyond compare I dedicate this poem to you. It is a love I will probably never be able to say with the sad winds of my life moving beyond measure of love. It is still freedom but sometimes it gives a room of change to those episodes of chance that refuse to let off. I am the wind with a warm heart and a longing to be myself. To be myself I have to [I feel] break that bond of love with those who claim to love me; but with conditions of their own.
After all is said and done I will grace the colour of the sky with my huge wings that will always remain a part of the wind. I am the wind. I am of my own class and wonder for I define my life as I see it at present. It is all about what now brings and what it holds for all of us. It is about my life as I search deep within my soul – in retrospect. I have to take a bold stand of my life now; and I sense that time is fleeting faster than I am moving. I have to take hold of the present that the universe has given me. I have to do what I have to do in order to survive this ruthless main of time. I am the wind. I cannot be touched and held in one spot of marvel. I am the wind.
After all is said and done I will [in mine eyes] be able to stand on top of a lake and see my reflection in the moving waters and still shout “you did your best”. I will be able to do that because this is about me and this is me. What I do I do for me and the whispered chapters of reality that people seldom see, thereby grace attributed to them are transitory. I am the wind. I never stay in one state. I move and shovel with the passing waters of moments under the bridge of life. I guess all in all I feel that I miss something within that once made me see myself as a definite identity of a life I thought I would have. I am sad. I wonder whether I am sad because of the depressing choices that I find myself facing. There is nothing that makes me feel better, nothing to hassle the rough winds of my psalm with cool winds. The water is passing fast and I cannot hold on to what I feel I need to do. I need to be myself. I can not tell when I did lose myself and why, but I guess I needed to satisfy my ego and the world around me. Am I still the wind?
After all is said and done, probably there will be someone to say, “This is what he wanted. He wanted this for himself and nobody else; it was his dream to live his life the way he wanted.” After all is said and done, they will say, “here lived a great champion. It was difficult to please everyone, but he strived in his own way. These are the remains of what he wanted to build, a world of clear fresh waters that move at a quick pace in the sparkling rivers of our minds.” He wanted for his children to be an example that deems them fit to always say, “We are proud of our father.” After all is said and done, he will be the wind again and fly as high as he can.
I am the wind. I have disappointed myself and I feel the effects of that betrayal deep in my soul. The waters are still clean but they are completing an effect that will forever be here with those cool winds of the evening. I guess I long for my waters that make me fresh and clean. I am the wind.