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Inspired by The Wind Comb (Chillida 1977) and a recent rejection. |
Combing the Wind (11/18/12) I reach out with my fingers open and comb the wind. I think it’s sad you’ll never know me or consider me your friend. I close my eyes and face the music. I’m not the kind who would pretend. I feel the push. I’ll step away and we can call it the end. The wind blows on... It hits a rock and goes around it, Can’t be stopped, controlled, or bounded, Lifts the song from where it found it and carries on. Think I'll take it like the wind and move along. I’m gonna take it like the wind and move along. No need to fear. I won’t be taking countermeasures – no smoke screens or deceptions, RPGs or other weapons. No throwing chaff or wearing armor. Nothing grows when you’re in fear. If you’d just lose your sense of injury, your wounds would disappear. The wind blows on... It hits a rock and goes around it, Can’t be stopped, controlled, or bounded, Lifts the song from where it found it and carries on. Think I'll take it like the wind and move along. I’m gonna take it like the wind and move along. It’s not my style to dwell in dungeons, strike in anger, or defend. I think it’s sad you’ll never know me or consider me your friend. But I’ll stand and face the music. I hear it fade into the wind. It all goes quiet for a moment, then it tangles up again. The wind blows on... It hits a rock and goes around it, Can’t be stopped, controlled, or bounded, Lifts the song from where it found it and carries on. Think I'll take it like the wind and move along. I’m gonna take it like the wind and move along. |