Musik: Alexander Villinger

    Come wind!

The air moves passed me

touching all, but never stopping

to ask.

What was this thing

Yet knowing, by my form,

it was me.

No other shapes it the way

I do.

And so it will remember.

Come wind, take me up

Help me touch others as you do

Teach me not to ask and yet

to know

Show me how to hold things

then let them down

Knowing of, then have no question

The answers of the presence

of the things you touch

are all you seek.

But I am not formless

And still with nothing to shape

what am I

Can I go without touching

Does my form mean me

Does my presence mean you

are there

Or does yours mean I am

Question I ask and look for

you to answer

questions you never needed

Come wind, blow me away

I am of nothing

Who do you see through me

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Reflections upon snoitcelfeR

  © Martin C. Davies 1978