Few of us contemplate the wind these days. Wind is a herald of change. When fire is touched by the wind, it flares up in anger. When the wind caresses the surface of a lake, the water is so moved that it ripples in joy. When the wind trusses through the trees, their leaves dance and jump in response.
The wind tonight is strong. Whatever change is coming is urgent. It must come soon or it will not come at all. Perhaps for those who have experienced change recently, more change is coming. Only time can say for certain.
And yet-what of fire? Fire is the prophet of rebirth and of warmth. An agent of destruction, sure, but does not the world seem brighter after a storm? Does not one tree's death feed the birth of a dozen others? Must not the prey die for the predator to eat? Not all destruction is for destruction’s sake. Not all tears are an evil.
About the Creator
Willow Walker
Probably the worst poet since the Vogons, but I like to think my prose is a bit better



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