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Wind
He scatters sand
Across smiling waves that will
Take time to return
To the beach bearing their
Granular load
Wetter and more broken
But no wiser
He shouts
At the sun's rays
Cool skin and colder mouth
Pushing an umbrella of clouds
To protect
His spinning fat mother
Rocky in her shrouded benevolence
He smiles at trees
And breaks their backs
In fury begat of a butterfly wingbeat
Thousands of miles ago
Yesterday
An eddy grown into a violent abuse
He jumps
Over coastal mountain ranges
Speeds over salt flats
Spins down rocky gorges
Streams high above
And never knows his destiny
He gives birth
To a thousand winds
Sending them onward
To batter our bodies senseless
Guiltless and schitzophrenic
Obeying not even their father
This one really gives me the sense that we experience even the truest freedom from the inside of a carefully capped and vented glass jar on His windowsill... and as we explore our freedom He is always observing us... koncking at the glass occasionally to remind us the He is still there... even though we can't see Him through the bent unfocused light shining into our world.