I hear it, outside, whistling with menace,
An ill intent exists within,
Behind it, the sordid remains of its last victim,
It cannot be stopped; it is invincible, omnipresent,
T’is the wind, a fell wind,
Think of it, it is to be feared,
But do not join it, corruptness spawns from it.
One may ask, “how did this wind come to be?”
Oh, curious one, t’is a most gruesome tale,
The wind of evil was fed, not created as it is now,
T’was weak, unable to harm a leaf,
It grew strong, feeding on the substance which it was made,
That which human holds in great amounts,
T’is greed, horrible, destructive greed.