The Wind

I cannot control the wind
Or it’s constant metamorphose
I listen to the rustling of the leaves
And watch the tree tops sway
I feel it’s force against my cheeks
As my heels dig into the ground

I fight achingly against each sudden surge
I lean in with all my might
While it gainfully gusts
And steadily swirls
Any way it chooses
With no conscience, no regret

Until I’m left squarely standing
Slightly swaying like the tops of trees
I close my eyes, feet firmly planted
Listening to more than the leaves
I hear my inner voice, shouting
For I have not acquiesced

But, I know, I cannot control the wind
Nor can it control me

3 thoughts on “The Wind

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