WINDCATCHER

I feel the wind sing its serenade
of ancient rhyme and rustling psalm,
exploding within as a hand grenade
spinning the fans of my mind’s calm.
my
Standing upon the soil of my thought
to catch life’s countless array in scents,
inhaling the breeze from the blasts they wrought,
allowing the drops from raging vents
to engulf my being in all the potency it brought.

Until its power flows through my girth
stirring the drill possessing my soul,
pumping the blood from my earth
pouring forth a fount of gold.

Flowing in euphoria’s effervescence
as it waters the inner greenhouse
where the flowers of my tear’s quintessence
blossom in their own bouquet’s blouse,
becoming roses that can heal and inspire,
but never without thorns lacking evanescence
that prick those who visit in unsuspecting fire.

By day my blades obey the swaying strides
from wherever the zephyr current in moods shifts,
exhaling at times a pure blissful waft in tides,
others expelling a volatile twister in tempest rifts.

But it is at night when my windcatcher being
finds the harmony to stay steadfast amid the shudders of light,
when the pinwheel of my spirit’s leaning.
is bathed in the twinkle of cosmic pinpricks sight.

Carrying the shimmer of divine love,
felt as the candle of heaven’s flame,
covering the darkness with serenity’s glove,
enabling me to remain upright in my aim
even when tomorrow’s gale threatens from above.