The Restless Wind
None knows when the wind will blow
Toward which direction, - fair protection or foul destruction
Ushering the dove or an owl, no premonition
Every step in life is toward a cake or a knife
Very seldom both together and rife
Wherever there is pressure on the equator I am warm and then hot
Gather upward vigour in full rigour, higher and higher
You are at poles, bulky and cold
Acquire rush and perceptibly occurs the brush
Out of the crush the storm arose disintegrating the rose
You are quenched, no more clenched,
Balance brought back begin to be bored
The trigger is never much behind for eternally restless is wind
Now at high and then low
Sometime you harvest sometime sow
There life goes off, here they glow
Wind moves on to and fro
From your poles to my equator
The rhyme creator
Also the terminator
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March 22, 2016
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