I am the Wind
Tempests in time I,
Circling the deserts,
Like Urubu hunting,
Forcing new movement of sand.
Across these barren planes,
I force myself,
Carving lines, scarring earth,
Ripping at her flesh.
Over oceans so wide,
My face kisses foam,
Horses of wild response,
For my insistent urgings.
And in every season,
I am gentle, I am forceful,
Blowing sailors and travellers,
To all of earths corners.
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