THE TEMPLE OF THE FOUR WINDS.
THE FOUR WINDS
From East comes the wind of water and fire
with flood and drought
in the uncertain hour
burned the falling petals to dust
touched my eyes, my forehead and mouth
between the tears, that smoke arouse.
From West I hear the wind of omen
foreseeing the destiny of my dreams
how vainly it ever will amaze
of feeble hope and magnanimous despair
it always crowds between the jealous fate
and the perfect love, that in rapture glares.
From North I meet the single wind of immortality
with new convulsion in its power.
With yearnings from some sweet eyes
the joy of ever silence, I blinded endear
that trembles between the darkness
and the light.
The Southern wind is beyond reality
so slowly close and only mine
its beating bosom, my heart renewed
shaking in its wildness, listening for a while
consuming my whole presence, my blood
until the quiet limit of the absent desire arise.
February 2016 ©k.c.