The dancing chandelier The rustling curtain The humming through the trees The howling wilderness Heralding the presence of the wind Sometimes it comes softly, slowly blowing towards us a gentleman bringing a sweet calm to the soul. Other times a low whistle the trees swinging to its rhythm. We are the leaves, swaying and swirling. Life is but a challenge we must face, we sing to calm our troubled souls just to ease the pain and sorrow it brings along. When it blows against us a fiery whirlwind a howling wilderness twirling us violently in its anger. Some hold their faith for support others their footings to find, firmly on the rock they thought. They are the prey, the not so lucky, dragged along in its fury not a sign to sight, nor a trace to tell of its passing, like a sailing ship across the waves. But the wind-blown who find pleasure in not knowing where they are going, but in the unfolding of their wings follow where it leads them. And sometimes a f...
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