The wind comes along
and cools your body
and lifts your spirits
and softens your day,
and pushes you gently
in a certain direction,
or blows you so hard
you must stay wide awake;
and on those days
when it's hot and still,
you want the wind to cool you;
and at those times
when you're all alone,
you want the wind for comfort;
and on those days
when you're not quite sure
and you want to see
clouds hurrying by,
you want the wind
to show you where
your heart must go;
but you cannot have it,
it comes when it wants
and it blows where it will,
it belongs to another,
one greater than you.
And the water flows past
your house in a river,
and the rain comes down
and cools your yard,
and it flows from the mountains
all the way to the ocean;
you can drink it
and bathe in it,
you can ride it
and laugh with it
tumbling over you,
but you cannot have it,
it is only passing by,
it belongs to another,
one greater than you.
And the fire burns slowly
and heats up your dinner
and warms you at night
when the chill wind blows;
or burns hotter
consuming
your frivolous adventure,
taking care of that excess
you've left on your path.
The fire is a danger,
you don't want to hold it;
you thought you could use it
and tried to contain it;
you suffer for trying,
it belongs to another,
one greater than you.
And the earth is your mother
and gently protects you
and shields you from water
and fire and wind;
but you may not possess her,
though you think that you own her,
she belongs to another,
one greater than you.
There's a woman you know
who has touched you and held you
and told you she loved you
but meant much, much more;
and she warmed you and warned you
and guided you tearfully;
she's been a dear friend,
like a wind to your soul,
like the water
she has cleansed you,
like the earth, she has fed you
like the fire, flared up at you;
and the days are hardest
when your heart aches for her
and you want to posses her
and make her your own;
but she is a priestess,
and you cannot have her,
she belongs to another,
one greater than you.
About the Creator
Larry Berger
Larry Berger, world traveler, with 20 children and grandchildren, collected his poems and stories for sixty years, and now he winds up the rubber bands of his word drones and sends them to obliterate the sensibilities of innocent readers.
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