The Wily Wicked Wind

Do not whisper secrets to the wind, for the wily wind, is a blabber mouth. It howls around gravestones, listening for old rumors to spread. It slithers through cracks in walls and minds, It hears your moans, then steals your dreams. It shakes them loose like brittle leaves, Then carries them off to stir up a scream. Wind is never what it seems. It tricks you in strength and direction. It lulls and eases, then bursts into gusts, turns, and vanishes, leaving no trace behind. It scratches secrets in the sand, then erases them with sleight of hand. It blows the sand over to cover its tracks, so no one knows it has been there. It fans the flames into a wildfire rage. Wily and wicked, it shows no shame. It keeps the embers aglow for another chance just when you think you put it out. You can't tame the wind, or lock it up. You can't claim you have it under control. It’s best to let it pass — ride the dare. It will always pop up from somewhere else. The wind's echoes shrills from mouths of ghosts. It lulls your guard with a calming kiss on cheek. Before blasting a storm up in your face, to catch you off-guard and unprepared, leaving you shattered and lost. Don't ever trust the wind, It's a clever, cunning, wicked beast. Flying so wild, so free and untamed, that it shatters your hopes and dreams.