The Winds of Time
The winds of time
blow dry and wet, hot and cold
across the sea, deserts, forests of old,
across the open plains and city lights
submitting to the journies of its flight;
what wonders they have seen
marking well where it has been,
beauty and its birth
love and hatred at its worst;
where does it go next
overlooking the rich and blessed,
pondering the hungry homeless test
and all of life's residual effects.
It brushes your hair,
causing wonder if it's truly there,
it glides along your face
sweeping thru the treasures erased.
What does it see
as it sets a breeze out to the open sea,
slipping thru the air, the birds to tease
the winds of time are still and ever blowing
contemplating all the world has missed in its knowing.
Could history trace
its awe and its grace
when lives and living fail to keep pace.
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