The wind
blows where it wills;
you hear the sound of it
but you do not know
where it comes from
or where it is going.
So with everyone
who is born of spirit.
-- John 3:8
You were warm
and I had woken
to the wonder
of my growing.
Now the
storm
has left me
broken
bending under
every blowing.
Still, the
norm
that once was spoken
lets me blunder
into knowing.
Fill my
form
with laughing token
of your thunder's
love of flowing.
