Capricious Wind
Our aging world needs propping up
When the season brings cold and windy encroachment
Our delusional sets of home and barn
Buildings and forest growth
Shiver
Shake
Unstable
As if but moments away from crumbling.
Such will bring about infinite space
Quietude supreme
Mystical stillness
Pyramid repose
Silence of the stars
Like astral flashlights
Of archeologists entering the crypts of kingship
Expecting divine intervention
With such imagination
The wind will pause
Will listen
Even the trees of weathered pain
Once crazed
Terror-stricken
Will wait out another false epilogue
While we grab onto a branch
With breath held
Expecting the world to end
Such a light breeze enters
A caress of trust
Reminding the living
That the state of still being
Is the determination of Nature
A sustainment for both humanity
And
The capricious wind
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But you are writing about the wind as a metaphor for change. Change is always there, sometimes rushing loudly, and other times suddenly going the direction no one ever thought. Pointing out that all is illusion and the capricious wind will eventually change everything into drifting dust.
Ron