I stand on the crest of the hill, overlooking the sea...crashing, crashing; waves; come unto me..!! The wind replies; distinct sounds...a rumble, a whistle, screeches and howls! Limbs crack, snap, calling me back. My soul, my soul!
The old house hears, yes it hears; to speak, to groan and then a moan, an echo to be sure, to a voice: Is anyone home!? The old house beckons, destruction appears, the waves cannot sway; Come here, come near, nearer, and I will speak: Out of my way!
My foot slips and slides, catching a branch, breaking the fall. Close, closer, almost there; waves sigh: Almost, almost caught, almost to die!
Streaming, screaming, howls the wind: Do not touch the soul’s dead skin! Numbing, numbed by cold, long lost the sounds, the winds of old. Buried deep, deeply into the sea; waiting, watching, harkening: Come unto me!
Slivers of ice, broken, sharp, drop from the sky; winds take the twisted, driving them down and down…drawing lines in the sky, pockmarked designs: Everyone pines.
Wind, oh wind look how it sales; look up, look up, glancing arrows, frozen air, sling them aside: Speak into the crowd: No wailing aloud!
Little did I know, the earth drew, sucked in the fire, little did I know the flames drew without tire. How did I know, why would I care? Only you can speak the words I desire; only you would know; only you can share.
Scraps of skin cling to the shards; I walk away, feet into yards; the temptress may be stalking, I'm blind and cannot see. Step back; step back, away from the sea.