The wind may not change its nature,
it's inherent existence and ability
to affect the landscape it roams
but it may change its direction,
its speed and focus.

So it is also with us
our inherent existence and ability
to affect the world we roam
but we may change our actions,
through diligence and focus.

Wait, I have added to it. Here is the fuller version:

The wind may not change its nature,
it's inherent existence and ability
to affect the landscape it roams
but it may change its direction,
its speed and focus.

So it is also with us
our inherent existence and ability
to affect the world we roam.
and we too may change our directions
through diligence and focus.

Unlike the wind that may oscillate
and has no choice,
we have a gift none other have,
our will, our choice.

I love the sentiment! Well said!

Something about the weight of the words, though, made it a less-than-smooth read for me. They seem too academic for the sweet simplicity of the parallel. Maybe I'm just out of practice, though.

Kudos!

This is well written but it reads more like new age philosophy than free verse poetry. The will seems to be more suited as a theme by my way of thinking. The Wind & The Will might be considered as another title.

The wind is breezing from the north as I write this. The fish bite best when the wind is from the west.

I like the sound of your user name Fallen Oak. If I was a tree I would be an Eastern Red Cedar, an evergreen. How is that for a choice?

Fallen Oak is a reference to my book, Memoirs of a Fallen Oak, published in 2004.

wind passes by like the thorns that never edge
for something it cause to blow as if dandelions dancing on it
even though we might know where it will be
we always take chances for it

Whisper in the Wind
© Samantha C. Fifer


I hear it calling me,
In the middle of the night.
A whisper at my window,
Beckoning me to frolic,
In the cool summer breeze.

It blows gently through my hair,
As I dance across,
The soft green grass,
The wind tickles my feet,
When the breeze ruffles through the grass.

I dance to a pond where,
Every time I sit down,
At the murky water,
I can see my reflection,
By the moonlight dancing,
Across the water.

My reflection fades away,
When a willow branch whips,
At the water, and cast,
A ripple that continues,
Throughout the pond.

I lay here gazing up,
At the starry night,
Wondering how it can,
Be so beautiful.

And if it would last forever,
But then I realize that,
Not every thing lasts forever,
But comes once more,
After anther day,
Comes upon us.