The Wondering Wind

Down a lonesome corrider. Of a forgotten alley. The wise old wind whistles songs of freedom. As tin cans scurry and dustbins rattle, And paper dances in magical swirls To its elusive melody. The translucent light of the decaying dawn soon fades to mist , and a new day hangs upon my shoulder I am deaf to her chorus. My mind confined to a vacuum. Of daily banality and the struggle to keep harsh reality at bay . And I cannot answer when she asks, What does your existence mean? As you stand beneath a billion Galaxies and infinite space .