Whether it listen or not, I talk to the wind,
It’s trustworthy nature being one of glory
No knowledge of my name, nor my tongue,
Just knowing of the troubles in my story.
The wind takes a weight of your chest,
It puts one’s state entirely to ease,
Facing a direction no one will see,
Looking in a direction that the troubles of life become whispers in the wind.
No two whispers are the same,
Though...
