The Wind - Hawkwind

The wind

Carrying the ghosts of every word spoken

Unheard messages

From beyond the fields we know

Intimate with fern, stems and stone

Causing sighing trees

To overlay mosaics of trembling leaves

And bending in the breeze

Drawing moisture from rain soaked moss

And lichen armored wooden cathedrals

Howling over mountains

Racing over rivers

Idling on becalmed seas

Flickering ripples on rain soaked pools

Sun dappled glittering vibrations

Spreading to arcane wisdom

Forever whirling mysteries

Causing stems to bend

Perfumed flowers in the air

The wind is with us

The wind is listening to our conversation

The wind travels round and round

It listens it hears

It breathes it understands

You cannot escape

From the listening wind in this world

The age of innocence is upon us

It echos in the wind