Wind Over the Lands

The wind blows over grass and sea,

sings cooly, comforts quietly.

It carries along memories

of which it is not aware.

Grants strange insights to distant dreamers

who have heard its song -

thus they themselves

are naught but sound and air.

The wind has no name.

The wind knows nothing of joy nor sorrow,

the wind poses no questions,

toys with faces, hair and hearts

and heeds not what they are saying.

We are the land in which it lives.

Where we once came from -

the town, the realm -

is all the same to it;

the wind knows no names.

The wind carries the seeds of time

to the lands that we tilled.

In the steady stream of its breath

worlds bloom and die.

We harvest what life offers -

the wind gives only the seeds,

we are our own reward

for already tomorrow

it will blow away time and names.

Eva, 8th Mayof 2000

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