Robert Ludden Poet Free verse

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?
        ~

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