The Wind

It's a faint loneliness
like the wind blowing
calling my name
in an endless desert

Tomorrow life resumes
a bustling downtown
phones ringing
machines beeping
the monkey on the other line
well that could be anyone

They know my name
but can't whisper it softly
as the wind does

I always think about community
in the sense of hundreds of thousands of years ago
coexisting with the earth harmoniously
with all the time they had
tracking the movements of the stars
sun rising and falling
did they know this feeling?

I stare at the half full moon
and long for the stars
that the streetlights won't let shine through
I can see the pretty flowers and bees pollinating
and feel grateful but so empty

I live in the fantasies of my mind
of what can never be with unsuspecting souls
who don't know how to whisper my name
like the wind - blowing tumbleweeds through a desert
to their destiny, sure of her direction
under starriest of nights

I am only halfway of being who I want to be
and ten percent in knowing that woman myself
I speak with too much confidence
but I'm only sure that it's fooling everyone just enough

I hold myself so strongly up against my words
just to have something to believe
and my words have less foundation
than the wind, so heavily directed
then shifting suddenly without warning
and I swear that's how she knows my name

Nothing binds us, nothing holds us in place
I am a tumbleweed, my words directing
there's beauty to wandering and not belonging to anyone or anything
but not when you're trying to build castles out of sand
cause each direction looks so convincing
that it sweeps you away each time

I call to her softly asking
"who am I?"
she comes as she pleases gusting strongly
and passes right through me
as though she owes me nothing
and she's always right.