Yield of Wind


I am the wind.
The calm. The chaos. The whisper.
Hidden harbinger of sense feasts.
The gentle brush of hair and lips and skin.
I am the wind.


I am the wind.
The rushing. The raging. The air tide.
Invisible infantry upon the face of earth.
Eternal reality of kings, queens and continents.
I am the wind.

I am the wind –
yet even I must yield to His voice.

Copyright © 2020 by Charles B. Young.
All rights reserved. 

Discuss and Comment

%d bloggers like this: