On the Wings of the Wind
By John Herlihy

I
Someone is calling,
. . . . . Whose echo rings in the distance.
Something is enthralling,
. . . . . That lures me with insistence.
An angel lies in wait,
. . . . . Patiently guarding my gate.
He sits on my shoulder,
. . . . . Taking meticulous notes.
A devil tempts me to change my course,
. . . . . Following me always with no remorse.
He lingers furtively like a shadow,
. . . . . Dragging chains as precious cargo.

II
I listen to a voice you cannot hear,
. . . . . That says I must not fear.
I see a hand you cannot see,
. . . . . That beckons me to surrender to be free.
I taste a harsh flavor you cannot taste,
. . . . . That warns me not to stay.
I smell an odor you cannot smell,
. . . . . Its perfume leads me away.
I touch a texture you cannot touch,
. . . . . Its softness will lay me quietly down.
I sense a presence you do not sense,
. . . . . Offering emotions most profound.

III
Mystery raises untold questions,
. . . . Written carelessly in the sand.
The wind blows away the answers,
. . . . . Far away across the strand.
They disappear back into the elements,
. . . . . Of water, earth, fire and air.
Only to return on the wings of the wind,
. . . . . To ward off loneliness and despair.
The secrets of our lives,
. . . . . Bear tracings in the palm of our hand.
Silence tells a unique story,
. . . . . That no one can truly understand.