A boy stands high atop a hill,
Views the glen and tumbling pasture;
While governing this landscape still,
Contends he, and wind, are master."
The Wind then blows a brisk reply,
to quell the boy's ambition:
"For one to rule on mountains high,
there is but one condition.
"To a master be, you must master first
the storms that rage within;
to ride the wind, and this land traverse,
you must first know where you've been."
The proud boy scoffed at such demand,
And scowled at the thought;
That he should serve and not command,
forsaking all he'd sought:
"I have labored long to climb this height,
and meet you face to face;
is it wrong for me to claim the right
to share this lofty place?
Did you not resist my every step,
as I dared to touch the skies?
Was it not your hand, each time I wept,
stole the tears out from my eyes?
If a storm within me rages still,
'twas your breath that stoked its fire.
Yet am I beside you on this hill,
with unquenchable desire."
A gentle Wind caressed the boy,
now trembling at the peak;
and with child-like unbridled joy,
the Wind began to speak:
"O'er earth and sea, I've flown above,
down valleys, 'cross the plains;
I have held the wings of turtle doves,
and driven summer rains.
Yet of all the life and land I've touched,
be it all the eye can see;
There is nothing I've desired so much
as a soul that touches me."
Then he took the boy up in his hands,
and held him toward the sun;
Over stormy seas and fertile lands
the Wind and boy were one.
©2010 R.J. Gardner - All Rights Reserved