Rising winds

Rising winds

The winds are rising

slowly, subtly, steadily

they are the hint of a storm to come

a storm still nascent in the sky


For eons of years colors have been trapped

in the ground, in clouds

layers of colors

never mixing


These winds will bring together

what had been parted by hard rock

these winds will create new, unseen hues

to discover in their wakes


Brace for the coming storm

hold up the boughs that stem from truth

and let go all what has fed on lies

all what is half-dead in your body

that, let the wind snatch away


It will hurt, surely

you will hear tearing cracks

reverberating deep within you

your skin will be bruised

your needles will be torn apart

But as the spring shines

the boughs that remain

will give life to a new, saner tree

and your body will be lighter

it has ever felt

and your mood will rise

to match that happiness

you would beyond the stormful horizon

if only you could fly