The Mystic Wind

Elusive from that first-known contact, to a hillside vanishing, the young itinerant would blow the minds of all the barefoot tradesmen in his wake, and then proceed upon his trail of sacrifice to found a cult of martyrdom his followers would magnify with joy. So says the west wind first breathed upon our brows by that patient trudging Lord as he held forth in the ancient gospel of St. John. Those mysteries are spirit-fed. Now it is your turn to ask about the times when *you* were suddenly inspired? The carpenter would never tell, but to defend the spirit of the wind... and such it is today. That gentle gale most certainly is of divine intent and there intensifys --there is no other source for all we are, some form of God, perhaps, and cosmically beyond our reasoning-- We can but push aside both threat and quick reward. Ah! The wind is up. The day is now, ...and beautiful, not so? ~