I listen to the wind,
and all the secrets she brings.
Secrets she carries forever and a day.
Secrets from near and far,
all collected, all stored, all kept.
Dark secrets burden her wild wings.
She cries, she shouts, she whispers.
Her secrets desperately thrown out to ears;
ears that hear, but with hearts that do not listen,
do not understand, do not take in.
She has no one to tell, no one to share,
the pain she bears alone, carries alone.
Secrets from years gone by.
Secrets that could prevent further pain if they were heeded,
but would they be heeded if they were heard?
Would mankind listen?
Would you listen?