The Wind

In afternoons as I go by the auto,

At night as I drift off to sleep,

In the evenings as the sky darkens,

In the rain as the sky rattles.

I find myself at the edge,

Awaiting a grand and unwelcomed gale.

I find myself off the ledge when I feel a breeze that should not be there.

I find myself thrown off the edge at the earliest sign of a tempest.

It is rather funny,

Creatures like me,

Conquered the ocean, land ,the stars, and the heavens.

Made bridges, roads, rocket ships.

Leased out existence from nature,

But fear wind?

A thing with no face?

With no ammunition, no disgusting truths, no body to break?

Perhaps I am wondering if the lease is nearly up.

We tilled the ground for us, but forgot the soil breathes.

We conquered the sky, but forgot the sky sees everything.

We did so much,

Yet never realized that we are not the owners.

The gale isn't coming to kill.

It’s coming to collect the keys,

To remind us of who is the owner.

To remind us of our puniest existence.

and I am standing in the doorway,

wondering if I ever truly lived here.