Catching the Wind

Catching the Wind

I lift my hands in play,

and chase what cannot stay.

Catching the wind they call it,

a game that never ends.

The breeze slips through my fingers,

it laughs and moves away.

I run but cannot hold it,

its freedom is too wild.

Catching the wind is longing,

to seize what can’t be caught.

Like dreams that drift away,

just as I reach for them.

The trees are filled with whispers,

their branches bend and sway.

The leaves become the dancers,

that follow where it goes.

I spread my arms to welcome,

the breath that passes near.

It touches skin so lightly,

then leaves without a word.

Catching the wind is sorrow,

yet joy is in the chase.

For even if it flees me,

I still have felt its song.

I keep on chasing after,

though empty is my hand.

The wind reminds me gently,

not all is meant to stay.

So let me chase forever,

a friend that cannot rest.

Catching the wind may fail me,

but still it makes me whole.