A W I N D Y L O S S
The wind? The wind. The wind! The wind… ah, the wind. I was
never so conscience of the wind. It wasn't unbearably strong, or cold for that
matter. I just noticed the wind especially because it was… different. That's
all, just different. How, I'm not sure. Trying to describe how the wind felt
that day would be like trying to explain the feeling of love. Ah, but these
unexplainables were so dissimilar. Unlike love, I understood that wind. I
couldn't describe it, but yes, I understood the evilness of that wind. Just as
you don't have to be a philosopher to feel love. I understood that wind without
ever having felt it before.
Evil.
Evil like no man ever knew. Like no man could ever know.
Without blood nor flesh, soul or heart. Evil could now be conceived to its
fullest extent. To feel all the destruction possible, without ears or eyes, and
whisper it in the night. The wind did not and could not talk, and yet was
heard. It could not see, yet always hit the weakest side of the house and blew
off the leaf with the thinnest stem. Lacking flesh and mass, not a day went by
that its presence wasn't felt.
To blow from seemingly no source, to move about freely with
no aim but its own ...
To be the first life giving gasp of a new born: to be part
of the relief and joy after finishing a race; to pillow and support huge D-C 10'S;
to give each bird it's flight; to cool a hot brow on a hot summer's day; to
glide a ball, through the sky, with which the children play; to play with a
kite above the trees; to carry a child's escaped balloon up and off to some
place unknown; but also having the power and will to destroy any town.
To some days relax and simply play dead, to roll ocean waves
and watch the seagulls overhead, to fly freely, to know no bounds, to have
sinned, to shake and crumble, setting whole cities to rubble, to be the wind.
The wind.
Tonight the wind is evil. Tomorrow sane. To be anything. At
any time. Except plain.
Yes, the wind. It was the wind on that special night that
caused such calamity and pain. A stream of oxygen and carbon dioxide molecules
that had such a fateful result on the actions of a few, but the lives and
hearts of many. An absolute wind that brought a final climax down upon the
heads of those expecting more. Without wind this day might have ended better…
This wind had directly caused the watering of many people’s
eyes by irritation, in a way not so subtle that had stopped progress short of
reaching the goal. These tears were not from irritation, but from sadness.
Tears wasted on grass that didn't ever need watering.
The loneliest creature in the Universe feel down to his
knees with head in hands before the people that had put so much trust and hope
in him. They offered him no condolence as they could only think of that wind.
The dreaded wind! The wind that blew in that lonely man's face and carried his
tears away in the breeze.
The man was now alone. Once the center of attention, now he
stood alone. He hated the wind the most. For it was the wind that had stolen
the chance of heroism from his grasp. Blame it on the wind. The wind, how it
blew so cold today…
It was the wind that blew his straight, seemingly good kick
back and stopped it from crossing over the goal posts, dropping inches short.
The kick was strong and true, but the wind prevailed in the end as the football
fluttered short.
On the last play of the game the field goal that would have
won it was not to be. For the wind. Without eyes, ears, mouth, or feelings, it
was the wind that made the choice. The wind chose the victor on that cold day
in January and sent the home team and fans away with heavy hearts.
Intercepting your affection,
รจim
Uhr
P.S. I threw a party the other day. It was an
all sports party, and all had a good time. I pitched my spiel about getting
rich by raising foul (fowl) to the baseball players, but they walked away as I struck out. I passed a stock tip to the
football players and they rushed
right out to contact their brokers. The tiddlywinks player flipped when he received my invitation and thus couldn't make it
suffering from a slipped disc. The
hockey players checked out and made passes to the waitress, who claimed they
had no goal. Polo players rode by but
only waved from their cars, claiming they were hoarse. Some bowlers rolled in
telling the sad story of their days in the gutter.
Basketball players dribbled wine from
their glasses and food traveled from
their mouths to the floor as they talked. The only really bad thing that
happened to upset me was when I served my best wine to the tennis players and
they found fault with it, but no love was lost. The swim team came in and
got carried away doing breast strokes, which was okay by me but the husbands of
some of the women didn't like it. It was a party that lasted to the wee hours
of the morning, except all the gymnastic people insisted on leaving precisely
at 10. Some very suspicious money was changed hands but the monopoly players
claimed to know nothing of it – yet were seen making token gestures of peace to the chess players, who had quite a
knight in my humble castle. The baseball players, and basketball players
dramatically ended the party by fighting over what a foul was. Finally a hunter
ended the discussion by shooting them (the bird), and all went home happy. And
so I said my goodbyes to a lot of gamey people.
