Wind: it rushes 'round the spire; free yet tame

Whispering softly of the hopes and fears

All directions and none know whence it came

Blowing stiffly headlong into salt tears

Never looking back, the past and future

Are not today; why bother with remote

When living the moment is tried and sure

By reckless type who scorn living by rote

Wind: it catches those it meets on its path

But they can not follow into the sky

They weigh too much; fear Material's wrath

Wind is rootless, more or less is a lie

It can leave the ground behind; however

Those left on earth try in vain forever