By JH Sayyar
O breath of dusk that stirs the dying light,
Whisperer through fields of withered gold,
Thy sighs awaken dreams from silent night,
And shake the leaves with secrets never told.
Thou rider swift over ocean’s heaving chest,
With cloud and storm thy stallions in array,
Thou break calm and light souls to quest,
To cast old grief and ghosts of yesterday
Come, West Wind, save me from false care,
Make me thy voice my thoughts unknown,
Ah! Blow through my soul till all is bare,
Truth remains, like roots in earth deep-grown.
If I must fall, then let me rise through thee
A leaf reborn, wild, wandering, and free