The Origins of Wind, A Myth

In the time on earth when wind didn't exist
a still lay over the land and nothing trembled.
Over the glassy water glare
unimpeded, the forceful heat
blanketed everything, without end.
The earth withered with a howling restless wail

Here the nights were clear; still
slivers of light broke through
But with nothing to stop and marvel,
An oppressing calm and silence
settled over all.
From an abundance of desolation a cry resounded.

Elsewhere was relentless chill
a heap of gathering clouds
shadowed the barrens below
rain hail and snow pounded the muddy plains:
a storm without end.
The low lonely baritone berated the sky
Unaffected, the heavens heaved unabated.

Man, with nowhere left for harbor,
joined in with the choir of sorrow.
Together the voices combined
brought blissful relief to another
Rushing, together,
a sorrowful dirge
Over the land hums together
There is joy and torment in the ceaseless swirl.
It was from this dirge, this incessant cry, that wind was born



(sorry unavailable here, but worth hearing on yt; the oddly comforting but haunting sound of howling winds)

a reply to: zosimov

Nice

Yea verily,
the land did thirst.
For rain to fall
the wind comes first.

He sends the upheld
mists to where
the warm meets cold
and rain falls there.

a reply to: pthena

pthena,

Love the poem!

a reply to: zosimov

Here is another.

Hurricane

Straight doth the East Wind fly
across that arid land
so remaineth dry.

Until He arrive
above the ocean blue
below that sky
lofty blue.

Amidst those blues
a tropical depression

'Til moisture rise
to sooth tearless cries
and chasing Himself
becomes a whirling maelstrom.

Then it is that men rejoice
when what has become
doth miss them.

a reply to: pthena

Love that one, too.

Not sure if you followed the link, but I enjoyed listening to the howling winds as I was writing.
A few comments (on youtube) prompted the piece:

it sounds like choir voices, and they are singing a very pure but tormented and haunting improvisation. I can hear 3-4 parts sometimes

There is an old Nordic tale my Great Grandma used to tell me when I was a child. She would always tell my that The Wind or the Howling Wind was the desperate cry for help from the Lost. Cursed to cry across the lands Howling in desperation for help. For they were so cold, so tired of the never ending cycle. For if they too, should suffer then you also will suffer the freezing winds for the rest of time. She would always finish the tale by saying the Goosebumps you get when you are in a windstorm was the presence of another..
She was a Scary old Woman, let me tell you.

I love the sound of wind and watching it toss around in the trees.

Hope you have a good weekend.

a reply to: zosimov

Yes. I did listen to the wind, for about 45 minutes.

I read the comment about the old Nordic tale. I figured that was part of the inspiration.

but

When I opened my web browser this morning there was news of Henri becoming a hurricane, so ...

Hope you have a good weekend.

Thank you. I will go as the wind drives me.