Home » Paean of Praise » Where Hats Go

Where Hats Go

I’ve let go the need to know why
for you know better than I.

 

 

I have learned to speak with the Wind.
He responds with beauty, with words
courageously unfettered but not sans

form, unlike men. He hears me, even as I
mumble scores of incoherent shouts for
freedom which only the Wind and heart

comprehend. There must be a wind in me
which sways with It, or perhaps, a wheel, as
a turbine works well with flowing water.

I have learned to follow It from east to west
and believe that He clutches to His breast
seeds that make the fruits grow in forests

and fields and in the ancient verses and
prose in the preparation of the coming
harvest of souls. Today, I met a young lark.

I told him about the Wind, but he laughed
at me. As if on cue, the wind swiped off the
hat from my head. Off the straw flew to

where the Wind blew. I chased what I would
be divested and deprived of. The young lark,
holding on to his, couldn’t fly with only a wing.

“Where did the Wind take your hat and go?”

he asked. I couldn’t quite answer if it was a place
or a time or a time and place like this one though
I am there and not there. I will find myself in that

destination, soon, and them who didn’t hold on to their
hats and rings and scepters, but spread their wings to
embrace the Wind and lose such hats and other stuff

to gain more.

March 27. 2010

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