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.