By Joshua Lewis
Blush softly for the wind and its fugue of roses
swaying for the caterpillars clinging to their folds.
I unfold, a valley of possibility.
My fingers touch the chords of life,
and I sing for the first time,
my voice a hallelujah
for everything present. I--the hymn
that can't fail to sound despite the indignities
of mountainous terrain. The uncertainties
of flesh rendered plain by ice and serrated flames.
I am the name writ upon the skin of the sky.
My name is forever, forever the breeze
that bore me. I am the letters of the wind,
the keys that persist despite silence:
that austere mountain that plays
upon our every hope and dream, fear
large and soft, subtle and sweet.
The absence of music personified.
Blush lightly for the breeze
and its coda of rose-tinted words.