The Wind was a poet, and a reckless one at that. Each day at daylight he proceeded to rhyme and theorize until his own heart could stand it no longer. Despite this dangerous habit, all who came to know him admired him for his skill (for it was a gift), and held him in high regard. Showing no ill-will to any creature, The Reckless Wind would compose sonnets for the bumblebees as they went about their work. Dancing about on his heels, he would sing epics to the trees as they swayed in his rhythmic steps. Welcoming the afternoon as a dear friend, and sending the evening off with a fond farewell, there was no want for companionship in his melodic life.
Yet, the composer was lonely, for he was in love, and as all lovers are at some point, he felt a longing for that which he could not obtain. Though he recklessly scored the world around him with an endless cadence, always the Reckless Wind would save his sweetest rhymes for the Pure Moon. Every night at twilight, she would rise to cast her lovely beams upon his face as he would whisper his cleverest limericks in her ear. Though they spent each night in blissful companionship, as all good things do, their time together would often come to an end far too swift; the moon’s brother, the Jealous Sun, would rise driving the wind back to his wandering and forcing the two lovers apart. Despondent, the Reckless Wind would travel many miles, the face of his beloved ever dancing before his eyes, and always he pondered how he might end such conflict.
This rash cycle of joy and despair continued for many years, interminably and without any direct confrontation until one fateful night which changed the poor poet’s life forever. As the Reckless Wind coasted down the soft sand in a place near the sea, the night was swiftly approaching. As any lover can attest to, the wind was anxious beyond belief, expecting the appearance of his beloved. Though not an entirely unpleasant feeling, one can certainly never call such a feeling one of comfort. It feels much the same as one feels before rising to address a very large crowd, or when shaking hands with some very prominent person, or perhaps how one might even feel when speaking to one’s grandfather, though these be poor comparisons. The heart leaps in the chest with such ferocity, bursting at its seams, and crying out for relief from the pressure of anxious anticipation. Yet at the same time, one feels such a sense of inadequacy to address the coming circumstance that intelligible speech, much less conscious thought becomes nigh-impossible. The entire world suddenly becomes a rounded endeavor in which all ideas and objects begin to flow together in one seamless dream in which the slightest of discomforts and irritations have no place. Upon the singular person of the admirer’s sweetheart does the whole of this universe proceed to revolve in a continuous quantum. Such was the feeling and atmosphere of the Reckless Wind as he prepared for the coming of his lover.
However, when the evening finally arrived, cooling the earth after the heat of the day, the wind remained waiting through the entirety of the night. Patiently he waited for the Pure Moon, for he was in love and faithful as no lover has ever been, nor as any since will ever be. Softly he crooned to the waves, reciting his favorite rhymes just to pass the time…
“Just listen to the voice in my head
He’s telling me that you’re the common thread.
The questions I ask, trailing behind
They over take me as I unwind.
As we avoid the truth, and our right minds
The planet turns and the stars align
You ask me how I am and I reply.
A constellation forms between you and I…”
Constantly, the Reckless Wind questioned her eclipse, but never once doubted her resolve. Patiently he waited as the stars danced above, sweeping across the vaulted sky in their tribal rituals. As morning approached, the Reckless Wind had, by this time, become very anxious in his wonder and confusion. It was as the dancing troupe made their final departure from the heavens, and the jealous sun began to awake, that
the reckless poet caught the smallest of the stars so as to inquire as to the source of his dilemma.
“Please, little one. In your many travels this evening, have you seen my lover? She is delicate, with eyes as deep as the summer. In the sky she glides upon God’s precipice. Her mantle is pale, and her presence of gentleness, but she has not met me here this night passing from my sight. Though I know her love is pure, her disappearance is highly irregular! Inspire of all your sanctions, could you shed some light on my passions?”
The Young Starlet Child replied to his calling with wide eyes and voice forlorn. Her words brought no comfort to the anxious lover, for her attention was focused upon higher causes than that of the reckless poet.
“If for purity you do seek, listen my son as I do speak. The sky stretches far, and the sky stays so near, some lovers stray, while others stand here. Wish not for the day to end, but search yourself for your dear friend. Through both the concrete and the abstract, find in yourself the strength to act. Inquire yourself of the Jealous Sun, not ‘till reconciled will your task be done.”
In virtue was the Young Starlet Child contrived, and to virtue she looked, and nothing else. No cause separate of Utopia would enthrall such a hythloday to action.
Dejected and drastic, The reckless poet was taken aback, suddenly uncertain of many things which he once understood, most of all in regards as to the whereabouts of his lover, he was desperately unsure. Despite this ambivalence, the Reckless Wind quickly began to theorize as to both cause and solution, and no matter which way he chose to describe his circumstance, all roads led to him, indeed taking the Young Starlet Child’s advice and inquiring as to the disappearance of his paramour; Inquiring of the Jealous Sun, himself.
And so, gathering every ounce of courage inhabiting the corners of his virtuous heart, The Reckless Wind approached the Jealous Sun at the break of day. To such sincerity and ardent devotion, even the most voracious of souls could not object to such a simple inquisition. The master of sky sat on his throne wearing a countenance numb, expressionless and still; yet when the composer of air approached he showed no fear.
“My bright comrade, you know why I have come. Seeking that which was not, for my love is lost beyond my thought. Tell me now where she has gone, flying by night, as the sky stretches on. By grace and grave, the shipwrecked and smuggler, I know that it be not for sake of another. Save for your command given from atop your seat so grand.”
Grave was the Jealous Sun’s expression as he listened to the Reckless Wind’s questions, and silent were his eyes. Yet patient was he, and calculating were his thoughts. Swift was his reply and curt was his speech, when the Jealous Sun finally spoke.
“You’re earnest I can see, but your stories I still don’t believe. You amongst these souls, lack any form of control. My sister I have hidden away, eclipsed until I decide a day, when she might again rest in your arms, truly beloved and safe from all harm. Prove to me your words and thoughts for you have naught but youth, your foreign state of confusion is no longer safe, for your home is now in pursuit. Send for the light that lives in the north, she can cleanse you thenceforth. Your time grows short and so take heed, take the road less traveled by lovers indeed. Patience is key and separation is certain, through danger you must pass and then you will learn…”
It was with these words that the Jealous Sun remained resolute in his purpose and sent the Reckless Wind away with few more answers than he had arrived with.
Distraught, the Reckless Wind continued to wander, what had the Jealous Sun meant in his admonition? Such a duty fell ambiguous upon the poet’s ears. Cryptic was the path set before him, and fractured the road, yet in search of his love, he ploughed north with tears in his eyes, and questions in his heart. Over rock and ridge his swift steps took him, constantly in search of the light which would satisfy his charge and return his amore. Within the evergreen forests and across mighty rivers, beyond amber plains, and through driving rain the Reckless Wind traveled until he came to the very foot of the mountains. It was here that he collapsed, cold and tired amongst the rolling foothills, still sweeping onwards.
When the Reckless Wind came to his senses, he found himself flowing down over the mountains passing through the trees, caressing each leaf as he sped by. He breathed the sweet valley morning and tasted the velveteen sky, leaving no scent untouched. Despite the ache in his heart, the poet found his soul beginning to soar amidst the beautiful landscape which now surrounded him. His core was moved so much that he burst into a joyful song, filling the air with his whimsy…
“ If I knew how to fly away from here,
Where stories are heard all the time,
And dreams are fished from deep sea brine,
I’d be there to stay.
The air would be filled with life at night,
No one could help but to sing,
While the placed their songs on wing,
Cuz they’re reminded of better days.”
With a song on his lips and light in his murky eyes, he continued to travel the airwaves like an angel of interest, casting a gentle breeze across the blades of grass which swayed in time with his rhythms. A flock of sparrows drifted by his side and began to harmonize with his composition. Meanwhile a cardinal led the melody, dancing amongst the measures and leading each bar with his melodious solo. Such were the Reckless Wind’s companions as he continued northward. However, as the miles increased and the days of his travel began to blend together, the ground below his footsteps became colder, and the atmosphere sparse. Shorter were the daylight hours now, and bare was the landscape which met the Reckless Wind’s smoky vision, Soon all the world was bathed in a silver shimmer, as snow covered mountains began to rise higher on each side of the Reckless Wind’s path. Crystal glaciers pervaded the horizon on every side, where the sky, capacious in it’s expanse and reaching to the very corners of this life. Clear it was, and dark. So dark was the sky such that as the wind looked upon it he could taste the very tip of its immense girth. Amidst the expanse, islands of diamond gleamed, floating on frozen seas of glass. Softly would the wind coast about their aerial pinnacles, caressing each icy shaft with winter’s care. Like a mother gazes upon a beloved child’s face, would the Reckless Wind gaze upon such wonders, for each was his kin.
“Certainly this must be the North, it’s all I’ve ever hoped for! No more could a breeze wish for such things. Truly is this the home of kings! Here I may find the northern lights as they dance amongst the heights. Here will my hope be restored to me. Now will be decided all that would ever be!” And find the northern lights he did indeed. Not but after a day of living amongst the frost did the Reckless wind find that which he sought. As twilight drew nigh, and the sky raged clear, the wind sat himself down to rest upon the water. Tenderly did he bathe his smooth fingers amongst the chilly ocean’s vast folds rustling the water’s surface. It was then that he cast his eyes to the sky with longing, and he met with a sight such as that he had never seen before.
Blazing across the sky like a silvery estuary flowing down from her source near heaven’s embankment, an argent stream of light coursed across the deepening vault. Looping amidst her empyrean beacons were deep shades of azure and viridian, outlined in the deepest of crimson. Sterling starlets were cast throughout her aqueous figure, drifting about as schooners on a pale sea. Each possessed a wispy green sail, traversed by wafts of royal rills. An amber mist left over from the summer morning surrounded the celestial vapors. Swaying to and fro, the golden haze reminded the Reckless Wind of dawn in late August, calling to mind the sounds of rippling rivers, and crying herons as they hunted in the underbrush. Music filled the air congregating upon the loam, ever swelling and changing about the poet. One moment the sound of a thousand violins could be heard echoing about the canyons, the next sounding a chorus of bull-frogs taking their midsummer solstice. Hastily did the Great Lights move across their domain, casting such a feeling of abundant paucity upon the Reckless Wind that he could do no more than stand in awe of the great scene before him. Such was the ethereal allure of the Aurora Borealis, or has it been since said.
Never before had the Reckless Wind seen anything of the sort, and as he gazed upon her magnificent brilliance before him, his heart leapt and his soul began to soar for he had found what which he sought!
“Jubilation free! Could this be that which I seek? The Northern Lights are before my eyes, and I shall see my love ‘er the Jealous Sun rise.”
Yet his joyous elations were suddenly cut short and all music ceased. As he gazed on in wonder and hopeful adoration, he began to take notice of that which had previously passed him by. Unbeknown to the composer of air, ominous storm clouds had began to gather on each side of the horizon, bringing with them the chilling rain of the North and stinging ice. In the face of such dangers, the tall mountains quaked in their roots as the sable rivers hid their delicate faces. Even the Great Light quailed in her path across the heavens. Violently did the rain and Ice berate the Great Light as she progressed, grasping at her sides and tearing her flesh. Quickly the very beauty which once ruled the sky became scattered about the endless void. Urgently she glanced about the earth for one who might deliver her from the storm’s onslaught. It was then that she noticed the Reckless Wind.
“Help me child! Save me from this dangerous gale! I may seem grand and beyond reach but my life is frail! Find it within yourself to rescue me, and I will be in your debt, though I am weak. You cannot sit idly by, nor remain there and question why,”
Confused, the Reckless Wind watched the Great Light under attack by the weather so strong; and confused, he searched for an action he might take. Never before had such fear grasped him, and never again would he be called upon to meet such a calling. Though he did not himself know it, the defining moment of his entire life was upon him, and his time was growing short. So it was, as the Reckless Wind closed his begrimed eyes, that he began to swell about in a stronger gale than he ever had before. Swifter now were his rhythmic steps and stronger was his melody. Grim became his demeanor and turbulent were his blasts. Surging high above the ground where once a young zephyr stood, now a mighty tempest raged.
Whistling past sea and sound, the Reckless Wind rose in the air to meet the oncoming storm. As the two monstrosities approached each other, the air tingled with potency and the very sky began quiver. As The Reckless Wind faced the coming invasion, the vast heavens themselves folded aside in his path. It was with a clap of lightning that the two powers collided in the sky, each raging in order to gain some ground. For hours on end the two were locked into an endless struggle neither willing to give way to the other. Just as the Reckless Wind would push forward, the coming storm would seep in underneath his feet, bursting the glaciers lying beneath. Around their struggling forms whirled streams of ice and water caught up and tossed about in their efforts. All the while, the Great Light looked on, growing in admiration and esteem. Constant was each in their resolution, and powerful were their wills, yet so strong was the storm that even Father Time himself would have been irresolute as to the outcome, Yet as the wise so often say, it is truly he with the greater cause who triumphs in the end, and what did the Wind have to lose but true love? As he struggled, always was the face of the Pure Moon before the poet’s eyes, all about his station could he feel her lovely beams cast about his frame, and he was filled with strength. Every second his sight became clearer, his efforts grew cogent, and his will thrived. With one final burst of summer’s breath, the Reckless Wind silenced winter in its calloused raging and sent it farther north to those places where none have yet ventured.
His duty fulfilled and the danger abated, the Reckless Wind returned to the ground, exhausted. All about him rang the applause of all creation. Tall mountains creaked in admiration, while the sable waters below leaped in excitement, even the Great Light herself could not help but shine the brighter because of his victory.
As he gasped for breath, the Reckless Wind dimly saw before him the Great Light as she descended, bathing him in sharp colours and cradling his weary head in her rays. Softly she spoke to him words of wisdom and insight.
“ You have traveled in search of the unknown, that deep history. You left your home seeking beyond your plateau, all love’s mysteries. It is love you shall have at the end of this day, inside every thought though hell should bar your path in every way, you’ve found what you sough. It's not enough, just to abstain, though it costs your freedom, to see others free. Till Christ returns, as I remain, Lord, let not chivalry die with thee, for your time has come now, my dearest friend, though neither you nor your breeze can be an island…” With such words, the Great Lights comforted him and carried him home, far to the south where his true heart would forever dwell amongst the trees.
And the rest, as they so often say, is history. Though as vibrant as ever, the Reckless Wind was now, not so reckless. Again would the Tranquil Wind dance among the woodlands, and sing to the bees as they gathered their stores.. His poetry ever unfolding before him, still showing no creature any ill-will. Welcoming the afternoon as a dear friend, and sending the evening off with a fond farewell, there was no want for companionship in his melodic life. Again would he speak to the starlet children, guiding them with council sweet, and many times would visit the Great Lights of the North. Again would he approach the Jealous Sun with honor in his eyes, and integrity clothing his name, and again did he see his love. Never did she again leave him, for always do fidelity, passion, ardor and devotion have their accolade. Always the Tranquil Wind would save his sweetest rhymes for the Pure Moon. Every night at twilight, she would rise to cast her lovely beams upon his face as he would whisper his cleverest limericks in her ear. It was then that the poet would spend each night in paradisaical esprit, married to the Pure Moon. May such love forever flourish.
Inspiration Playlist!
Something Beautiful – Needtobreathe
I’ve Got This Friend- The Civil Wars
Happily Ever After- He Is We
Island- Mainstay
That’s Amore – Dean Martin
Name- Goo Goo Dolls
Istillfeelher, Part III – Jonny Craig
Miss Nothing- The Pretty Reckless
Waiting – We Are The Ocean
Northern Downpour- Panic! At The Disco
Best Is Yet To Come- Red
"I get so distracted by some people's reactions that I don't see my own faults for what they are. At times it's so self destructive, with no intent or motive, but behind this emotion, there lies a sensible heart..."
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