THE WINDS

Have you ever built a house of cards? Its a strange excerise. Meant to teach patience. All it ever taught me was frustration. And an intense, boiling, deep down inside rage, that bubbles and froths and threatens to scald my insides! You'd sooner cool fire than teach me patience!

Anyway, ad requiem. the reason I brought up the house of cards was to point out its funny juxtaposition of firmness and instability. Till a sec before the One wrong card ... its a most logical, stable, if useless, structure. One wrong card and not only the errent new addition, but every member of the structure comes tumbling down ...

One harsh word, one small failure and the "i really loved u" flies. Talism lost, the devil rushes in on the hapless heart. The prayer beads fallen, the incessent chanting stops. In the jarring silence of the hollow dry well of my heart, the snide voice threatens to shout. Loud enough that I will hear. Loud enough that I cant shut it out. NO!!! I cover my ears and run. "promise u wont cry" ...

Why does emotions not answer and follow where the voice of reason commands? Why run helter skelter like windswept sand in my native land. Why life so hard. So sweet but yet so hard. And I, I cannot even show them. The phantoms are still bound to the skeletons, hidden in deep dungeons. Of my cold stone heart. I lean ... my back against the door. I hide. I feint. I parry queries with wit or deceit. And and make thrust to distract the enemy-friend.

From the dawn of my days, You, all of you, have been my winds ...
The winds that dry and torment, whip and mock & howl and throw u crying on the sand
The winds that drive you and make you fly, that fill your sail and push you on
The winds that bring rain, that you grow and green, bear fruit
The winds that take the seeds away when you have borne your fruit
The winds that sing lullabies on lone desert nights, cart drunken sweet visions and smells
from faraway, unknown, unheard of oasis caravans
The winds that churn you up, howling screeching, tormenting you with their pagan, filthy manic dance
From the dawn of my days, You, all of you, have been my winds,
I, the gypsy after your hawk trend ...
Now, how can I be calm land again, at your new command?

There was just him and then, later his echo to save me
To hold me back from heights so glorious
And pull me back from plunging gorges
To try to keep me on the human plane
The sparrow-ling held back from hypnotic flight of Eagles
But the were swept away with the Winds ...


He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
-- W.H. Auden