Tuesday, June 12, 2007


The stillness of this night
The wind whispers softly to me the stories of what used to be.
Of men and heroes who camped beneath the boughs of these trees.

Only bits and pieces are decipherable for the wind moves quickly.
Each breeze, a different voice, a different story.

I feel the breeze and I take it within me.
To be released on another day, to another person.
This breeze is my magic, for which I save for certain others
Who turn to me in times of need
To them I give my heart and soul.
To them I give my strength.
To them I teach patience.
And try to show them the way.

21 June 2000

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