Wind

Ruach
by a Humble Writer


How can a man be lonely with the Wind-God as his friend?
Who speaks in ceaseless whispers
to those who would be listeners.
A man cannot be lonely with the Wind-God as his friend.

How can a man be lonely as he walks among the trees?
and hears the leafy laughter
of autumn weather bluster.
A man cannot me lonely as he walks among the trees.

How can a man be lonely as he sails out on the sea?
He sees the Wind-Gods power
in white-capped waves that tower.
A man cannot be lonely as he sails upon the sea.

How can a man be lonely as he walks the city streets?
Though soulless grime enmeshes
the Wind-God's breeze refreshes.
A man cannot be lonely as he walks the city streets.

How can a man be lonely ever in his life at all?
He finds himself a closet
and locks himself inside it
and never hears the Wind-God's whisper in his ears at all.

A man cannot be lonely with the Wind-God as a friend.
If ears are kept to listening
the Wind-God's whispered whistling,
how can a man be lonely with the Wind-God as a friend?



Wind


We all have an idea what it is. It is that invisible force that moves trees and leaves and bits of paper around. It allows sailboats to move and kites to fly. It can be gentle as a kiss or fierce as a slap in the face. It is a knife on a cold day and a balm on a hot one. Wind carries scents to our noses from elsewhere (both good and bad). A wind is an blessing in a field of flowers and a a grim reminder on a battlefield.


Wikipedia says that: "wind is a flow of gasses on a large scale" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wind)


I am not a fan of post-modernism but my question for you today my dear readers is this: "What is the wind to you?"


The wind to me is a person.


Yes, I am mad.


Now that sanity is no longer a factor, I shall explain. I have almost always thought of the wind as a person (or the words of a person who spoke the wind as words). I speak to the wind and when I can hear the wind or feel it on my skin, I have never been able to feel lonely. I love every sort of wind from the tiniest zephyr, to the roaring gusts that shake houses and rip limbs off trees. I have strained my ears to understand the language of the wind. I have not yet discerned what it is. Here is my theory: wind speaks in a language of the soul.


The ancient Hebrews had a word for wind: 'ruach'. It was also their word for the spirit of God (my inspiration for the poem). I think they had something going there. The wind speaks directly to the soul, not to the ears or eyes like verbal words or writing on paper.


The wind is a comforter to me when I am sad. It is a further joy when I am glad. It was refreshment and peace on a busy day, causing me to slow my haste and pause for a moment. It causes me to tremble in fear and excitement when it rages, tossing trees like grass. When it stings my face on an icy winter day, it reminds me that I am alive and happy to be so, bringing a light to my eyes. In these and many other ways, the wind speaks to my soul.


Does the wind speak to you?



Slightly Related Insert: "Name of the Wind" by Patrick Rothfuss is a superb fantasy book. I highly recommend it to all fans of fantasy literature. www.patrickrothfuss.com/content/index.asp



My dear readers,


I apologize for the lacking posts recently. I will endeavor to meet my goal of one post a week more diligently from now on. Until next time,


A Humble Writer