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 the same coin may hold two sides.

Yin can not exist without Yang,

Life problems can not be solved aside.

It doesn’t always have to be the forceful gale;

Someone close or someone far,

You can turn your back on the gazing freeze and gustful breeze,

And hide yourself behind prison bar.

Explosive clamours of my exhausted mind exiled away like whispers on the wind.