The bright and fluid
wind today—
it booms
and it—bids me
as it
ever has:
Live like me!
Be free! Be free!
To get filled-
up and get
stuck—or worse!
to be
led!—those heavy
conveyances are
surely paths
to stillness—to death!
But by now—I've learned
how
not to be moved
by such hollow
manipulations
of the air; long have I stood
in the same place—
on exactly
the same
day—muttering
the tough
straight up-
and down
immovable truth—to live
to always
continue to live—is exactly
to obey
the secret
most—inflexible
thing there is in me;
a need—
to spit
salty into
the oncoming wind
and then—to just
remain perfect-
ly still—
while the
sting
returns
home—to hit
the rock it came from.
