Saturday, January 17, 2015


     I am the wind from the future. I bring visceral fear. You fear that you will not be able to breathe. I fill your eyes with dust and you cannot see. I blow over the unknown. I blow over your future. I push you and whip you - you cannot get away from me. I swirl around the refuse of the future: the burnt out cars yet to be blown up by suicide teenage girl bombers, the bombed-out buildings that today you call “home”, the charred sandal that now clings to your dainty cousin’s foot, and the rotting goat whose slit-eyes calmly watch you just outside. I fill your mouth with the dust of the things you will do. The dust of your wasted tomorrows fills your eyes so you cannot clearly see today. The wind from the future blinds you.
I am unstoppable. You cannot stop your future. I bring confusion. Who is your enemy? Who is your friend? Who is that moving just over there? What is that smell? Is that the terrible smell of death? After the immediate explosion and the smell of burning fuel and flesh, and the cries of anguish, the smell of death is the smell of your future. Even if you are not in combat, you too will die.

     Time and the calendar are on their way from the Solstice to the Equinox or vice versa. The warmth of the tropics blows north across the wet jungles. The polar vortexes dive southward across the forests and prairies. The wind of the future makes rain and flooding where the warm and the cold meet. The days grow longer. They can’t agree, these polarized forces. They come after one another, spawning storms which rage across the waters and drive across the land. And, in our governments around the earth, polarized forces rage as well as if presumptions and policies are the stuff of soul weather.
Typhoons in the soul blow apart our villages and toss around our life boats. What life? We drown in the great waves hopelessness and anger but try to hold the children aloft so the wind of the future does not drown them, too. They have so much future within them.
Forest and brush fires take the drought stricken areas and burn. We flee and leave the artifacts of our past. And then we mourn the fact that after the tragedy: bombing, fire, or flood; we have nothing to prove we were ever really there.
The past – the history of countries shows there is no ultimate balancing of forces, no peaceful future upon which we can rely. Season after season the storms are spawned, genocide after genocide one tribe/gang/party kills another, Church bombing after Church bombing nothing is sacred enough. There is always the lone killer.

The warmth and the cold, the wet and the dry, the fire and the ice comprise a whole. The wind from the future blows over them all.
And mankind too is varied: the good and bad, strong and weak, violent and peaceful, independent and enslaved, rich and poor; and the wind from the future blows over them all.
One future is fixed by its nature: plant, rock, water, fire. And it exists within time, the forces of weather and the Sun and Moon. Man cannot control these forces.
Each man can only control himself. And because we do not live alone and are isolated, we create a mutual destiny which will blow back and consume us all.
The wind of the future blows over us all.

© Copyright 2015, Jean W. Yeager
All Rights Reserved

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