In the whispers of Arriana's Windsong's grace, a melody dances through time and space, A symphony carried on the breath of the breeze, in nature's embrace, where harmony flees.

Arriana's Windsong, a gentle refrain, echoes through valleys and over the plain, softly sung by zephyrs that freely roam, a serenade echoing, finding its home.

Through rustling leaves and swaying trees, it tells tales of the land, the mountains, and seas, and a ballad of whispers, in every gust, In Arriana's Windsong, a melody of trust.

The wind's tender touch, a delicate kiss, carries the essence of nature's pure bliss, In the cadence of waves and the bird's joyful flight, Ariana's Windsong whispers, through the day and night.

In the rustling grasses and the river's flow, in the lullabies sung soft and slow, Ariana's Windsong, a comforting friend, a melody guiding from beginning to end.

So, listen closely to the breeze's soft plea, and hear Arriana's Windsong, wild and free, for in its gentle hum, a story prolongs Arriana's Windsong, where nature belongs.

blue coral reef sky
yearns
to
sing
another
windsong

Plato believed that the future could be told
by listening to the lingering whispers of the wind.
between its howls and sighs and
its knuckles cracking on the branches
it mentions something,
the something to come
the something that envelopes us
like an iron blanket.

or so Plato says.
but every time i've opened my ear
it just grew cold and slightly stung
so i stopped trying to hear the something
that wouldn’t voice itself loudly enough.

yet, along came an orange-haired girl who claims she can hear the wind
and i watch her and she sings along with it
in words that sound like cello strings.
her arms sway leaflike in a breathing ballet
a combination of her and the something
and all i hear is its hushness.
but it lures my legs to sit
and it tempts my mouth to shut
and listen.

i don’t know if this girl actually understands Plato’s sacred windsong
i don’t know if it’s something that her mind composed
but i do know that her lungs seem fuller than mine ever have
because she breathes belief, something i’ve always exhaled
in my sarcastic search for Science’s future.

life seems
so unfair
but
Lord
i know
you care
when
i hear
the sweet sound of
your voice
everywhere
only because
you sent me
a perfect windsong

If only there were words
           to the unspoken verses
           when silence is the only sound

           More than only
           near paralyzing torn,
           weary of searching endlessly
           for what cannot be found
           silence whispering poignantly
           drowning out the midnight rain,
          
           There is no more sorrow
           in search of the lost
           unstrummed guitar chords
           Unwritten psalms
           forever left unsung;
           without amity,
           woe betides an unfinished,
           abandoned heart's song

           Only a heart lonely knows,
           there is no absolving darkness
           whispering of screaming silence
           by night and by day:
           "all things must steal away"  
           not to be thought of wanderings end
           as a  velvety-crimson rosebud
           shamelessly withers brown

           Swirling eddies stir
           a black swan of loneliness
           swimming within the flood
           of raven river waters'
           silently eclipsing
           its pitch black flow

           Muted pleas silent as pity
           blowin' in the fleeting windsong,
           speaking in beckoning salutations
           singing in sweetly beseeching tongues

           Like the hush of a pensive soul,
           once touched by another, moved
           like a bedrock marrowed mountain
           left stifled, stranded and wondering,
           feeling an awkward silence
           when the leaves come falling down

           There are no misbegotten promises
           cast lightly in the moonlight’s restless spell;
           there is no solacing stillness
when silence is the only sound...