The Listening Wind

Standing on the edge of the abyss,

I talk to my fears.

The blowing wind hears me,

as I water the chasm with tears.

I tell my story,

it is of woe,

it is of joy.

The listless wind listens,

I speak of my life,

and things I've done.

I speak of the places I've seen

and the people I've met.

The wind continues to listen.

I talk of the road taken,

and the path least travelled.

I talk of love,

and heartache

and the games we've played.

The wind it changes direction,

the wind it picks up speed.

Pulling me away from the edge,

and all the while the wind listens.

I speak of my hopes,

and I speak of my fears.

I speak of happiness,

and I speak of regret.

I talk about the highs,

and I talk about the lows.

The wind furiously listens,

I speak of the songs I sing,

and I speak of the words I write.

I talk about the nights spent fighting,

and I talk about the mornings

making love in the light of the rising sun.

The billowing wind no longer listening,

I swear I hear it howl ...

'O son of man tis life of which you speak,

with all it ups and downs.

Fret not what cannot be undone,

take comfort in what has yet to come.

Put aside old fears,

and embrace the new ideas.

For when all is done

and you cannot speak more,

Let your deeds tell your tale,

Let your memories be sweet and your legacy ever lasting'.

And with this the wind died down,

the rain paused mid fall.

The rainbow broke forth

and it spoke to me in words of silence

that I cannot yet understand.