It were the times of own little adventure.
Sound of the wind would come and go, as the journey continued.
At some point I managed to perceive something peculiar. About the wind.
When it were the years of dread and darkness, when the life seemed so filled with shadows, whispers of cold, pleads of monsters to be slain, growls of beings that crept up in the dark with none other but the wish to kill. Bringing out fear and peace.
During those times – the wind would be very much the sound of piano, over the rubble of what once were a place of being. The home to some, the town to others. The wind was mixed with ash, with cold patters of rain, the sadness of souls which believed to have no more left, but to be slain. That was the wind that carried the story time and time again.
After a while, the wind changed up and it were something more of luck?
The wind whispered nostalgia, it harboured the longing, the sorrow, the hope and that yearning which is hard to quench. No matter how hard you put things in or what it could be… Despair and delusion were there in the wind. It was not much, but it had the air of everything “alright”, as it could have seemed, but all that was under the pretense of it – the cold shivering creature craving home and nurture. But never seemed to be given it. Deceit. The wind solely spoke and carried words of deceit.
The stories you think you want to hear, but in a nutshell – not what you need.
Wind that started to pick up and whirl after – was not really a wind. It was a hail storm, it was destruction of all the foundation that once was built. The wind carried the cries to the stars, the wailing to gods which one could amass, then the very much grieve, hatred, anger, loathsome greed.
The storm had it all in and then it went into the sea, with horizon to be absorbed, as it all died in the depths of her cradle.
Then came the stillness. Not the one that’s felt before storm, but one that comes after. The silence was deafening, as it stood still. This air was so hard to be real. But the lesson was such – to see beyond what one accounted for much. Could that be?
The wind that came after was merely a breeze, the kind you encounter on the sunny afternoon next to sea. With smell of the song of the love, with hope that descends to the palm of your hand, where you then let it go.
It was merely a time that made it so. But wind came with something that were bitter, though slowly changed to be sweet. Savoury, as it came to be.
Wind carried ballads of journey to behold, dreams that one comes to see in the parallel world, hopes that come with blessings and whispers of old – transcending time, as the stories are told, as they’re still carried in the wind…
And then it all reached me.
As the stillness now is with that, which one could call a heart. The wind came to tell me a lot. From how change comes at the price of own lot, as the lessons are learned, as the new things are made, as the heart comes to know and the brain comes to make. Its a play, which you watch with own eyes, during each moment of time as you wake and you live. As you breathe, as you seek and you find all that could be. From outside, from within, from places that could and could not be.
Wind that spoke to me, wind that carried the words I spoke.
From the obscene delusional quote, to the hope, love and prayer which came from the lips of someone fairer… from what felt like the halt of the world, when I would faintly sense words “beloved”.
Wind was there as the worry went off, as the anger decided to go, as the real and quite literal things took place to be, as I came to see, as heart was there to accept what mind was messing about, then clearing up to be.
Now all that cello, all that piano, flute, strings and other them things which made the sounds with drums with sky rumbling in turn to give new round of “cut/stop/and play” – nature itself came to create what it may.
Wind was there when the moments of crying embedded in the night, under the cloudy sky, with close to nothing in sight, as the fear crept inside. Making heart feel like there is more to this might, then the anger that held on – and then it were gone. Just the fear to be absorbed into endless abyss of the dark, that came closer, inching somewhat lark…
Wind caressed the face when I spoke of the dreams. It was there to give courage and reaffirm my needs.
Wind was there when the dream was built, it shall become one who carries along with me.
Wind had witnessed the words of love, such that could not be spoken to none I could know. Something so endearing, sweet, caring, into the aether of love. To the one who will come to hear it as the wind comes to touch upon their heart.
Wind as friend, as a company, as a fiend… Depending on how you want to see if that’s the start, or the end.
Wind was there when you let out your sigh, when you gave yourself that love that time. Wind was there when you cursed the heavens, as it turns this or that way to menace…
Wind was there when you knew it least, carrying to your lips a kiss, blown by someone you know not. But one that carries a love towards heart of gold.
Wind was there when you opened your door, walking out to see world outside once more… Patiently waiting for you to know – it’s there to hear your joy, your love. A companion which carries self alongside at all times. Knowing to hold your hand, as it knows that all will be right.
Wind was there when the eyes had watered, with mouth that babbled something along the lines of “oh fer fecks sake, again”, just to kiss your lashes and laugh at your hand, which wipes the tears away. Knowing that it will be yet the best day.
Wind was there… alongside… every time…
ArcDreamer 
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