As the wind breaks silence, the leafs on the ground get taken for a ride, and new ones fall from above. Gust after gust the wind keeps bellowing out into the night, whipping trees with its inferno rage, slashing the doors and windows of all those that breath it. He's letting them know.
He is the mighty power at work.
Upon pondering through this whirlwind of cold bitter rain, and the strong cracks of wind against my person, with each passing blow it gets stronger, it gets wilder. The wind is an architype of many, the holder of faces, is he here for the good intent, or his is raged with us... only time will explain.
He's brewing once more, waiting. Patiently, ready to rain down on us like the almighty God he already have been named. I true force of nature.
A perfect creator of sound.
©danmcb
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