Grasping The Wind

O Wind, invisible, tactile, fleeting. how can I grasp you? You rush over me, beyond me. Your powers make you one with the World's original forces. When all else was formless, when nothing had a shape that did not dissolve, when no thing could say, 'Look at me: I exist! I fill these contours. I carry this weight. I occupy these places.' Only silence and empty places. Everything had fallen into formlessness, collapsed before the blank power of nothingness. Except you, O Wind. Your presence made smells linger, made rough things smooth, made branches shiver. Birds returned to build nests, squirrels stored their stash, deer walked between trees in absolute silence. I alone know your worth, but others are learning to appreciate your presences, your absences. They bow to me, because the the Wind is the shape and sound of Creation, and the Wind is my friend. It chose me among men. O Wind, let the Acts of Creation prevail.