O wind she is far though
in thy blow whisper to her
to find me on the horizon's glow
read heart's script on the first star!

O wind when thou pass by her
ask if she sings the old song
its notes make her eyes blur
aching for the lover missed for long!

O wind when thou play on her hair
and she feels the touch of my hand
strum the tune softly in her ear
I'm pining in a faraway land!

O wind when her cheeks thou kiss
wet them with thirsty lips' touch
speak to her my only dying wish
to let her know I loved her very much!

dreams long lost
swirl around me

in the shade of Arjuna
winds sing a lullaby.

they never die
bide their time
in the cave of eye
neath layer of rhyme

don't the rustles fall silent
yet canopy of new leaves
grow above

crave the same firmament
and away from old griefs
seek new love?

in the winds' murmur
i would never touch them
the seemingly lost dreams

but quietly in the hopes' harbor
rekindle their flickering flame

and let flow in endless streams.

My bastardized Latin name approximating "[One who] reflects inner wisdom."
I love playing with etymology.

Cogitationis roughly translates to "thinking/meditation/reflection"
Sapien sort-of means "wise/wisdom/sentient" (like **** Sapiens)
Intrum is something like "inner/inside/within"

and the letter u was once writ as the letter v in the Latin world, so I replaced the us with vs and trifled with likely absolutely incorrect suffixes to make it more fun to say.

Hence: **Cogitatio Sapientvs Intrvm

Frozen footsteps, trapped in time
A single soul, lost can't find
The brightest light, the sun's sweet glow
A song above, mourns here below

A thoughtless step, a friend now lost
The prize I seek, despite the cost
A fighting life, death's icy grip
Continue on, until I slip

A hateful glare, or loves sweet hold
A song of poor, man's greed of gold
The forest high, the village sprawl
An old man's back, new baby's crawl

Frozen footsteps, trapped in time
The path I took, those left behind
This journey long, can't see the end
And was this real, *or just pretend?

He just dreams craves to be nothing
soars he never on ambition’s wing
a win for him is not even worth
he’s happy to be a loser from birth!

He talked so little they thought him shy
the teachers caught him looking at sky
never won a reward or a good grade
but you know of loss he isn’t afraid!

A good job wasn't meant to be his
a girl to love him lend him a kiss
the one he took fancy soon took flight
found another guy winner and bright!

He doesn’t regret not having a fat purse
his lack of aim and mediocrity’s curse
he would rather give away the game
retrieve from dust a windblown poem!

They call him a loser a defeatist a flop
a toddler lifelong while others gallop
he is contented with his chosen pace
happy to look around not run the race!