WHO AM I?
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.
WHY AM I
HERE?
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.
WHAT DO I WANT?
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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