Inspiration.
There's a wind that sweeps through the day and night,
And like the lightning goes,
But none have heard the sound of its wings,
And none know whither it blows;
But where'er it comes the thoughts of men
Are like clouds together hurled,
As they are carried with mystic speed
Over the crazy world.
We see no waving of leafy boughs,
Nor heave of the purple sea;
When this wind its fiercest blows, the Earth
May be still as the dead men be;
But the spirit feels its fiery breath
And the souls of men are stirr'd,
As o'er the mesmeric lines of life
Is flashed the magic word.
The gale from the Spirit-land blows in,
And they who feel it glow
With an ecstasy and ardour like
The seers of long ago —
The vital and inspiring breath
With which ideas are sown,
Like visioned seeds, in the mystic soil
Where the spirit-flowers are grown!
poem by Robert Crawford
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Related quotes
A Wind From... Elsewhere
The wind blows here... the wind blows there
The wind seems to blow from... everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair...
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! Can you see its graceful fingers... playing in your hair?
Nay! You cannot see the wind... e'en though you know it's there.
It's flitting... it's flirting... it's prancing everywhere
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! It blows unexpectedly... with a gentle breeze... it blows...
The Great Hand of Miracles... brings it... then it goes
To greet the early morning sun... to dance to and fro
From the highest, loftiest mountain heights... to valleys... far below. 'Who is He that sitteth upon the circle of the earth...
Who gathereth the winds in his fists—Who maketh a wind to pass over...
Thou hearest the sound thereof...
But canst not tell whence it cometh... and wither it goeth.' The wind blows here... the wind blows there...
The wind seems to blow... from everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair—
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE!
poem by Elga Haymon White
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Life In Her Creaking Shoes
Life in her creaking shoes
Goes, and more formal grows,
A round of calls and cues:
Love blows as the wind blows.
Blows! . . . in the quiet close
As in the roaring mart,
By ways no mortal knows
Love blows into the heart.
The stars some cadence use,
Forthright the river flows,
In order fall the dews,
Love blows as the wind blows:
Blows! . . . and what reckoning shows
The courses of his chart?
A spirit that comes and goes,
Love blows into the heart.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Into The Mystic
We were born before the wind
Also younger than the sun
Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic
Hark, now hear the sailors cry
Smell the sea and feel the sky
Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic
And when that fog horn blows I will be coming home
And when that fog horn blows I want to hear it
I dont have to fear it
I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
Then magnificently we will float into the mystic
And when that fog horn blows you know I will be coming home
And when thst fog horn whistle blows I got to hear it
I dont have to fear it
I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And together we will float into the mystic
Come on girl...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hamadryad.
Last night I was like one who prayed
Beneath a mystic tree
Whose windless leaves a murmur made,
As if it there might be
A spirit in the sap that laid
Its spell on them and me.
A creature who, invisible,
In sorrow and in mirth,
Through summer's heat or when the chill
Is on the dreaming Earth,
Sings as in sleep divinely still
The secret of its birth.
(And as it sings, possessed, apart
From all things far and near,
The music of its own strange heart
Is all it seems to hear,
As if its ardour made an art
Of its own atmosphere.
Still none who come there hear the song
Until their souls are bowed
Beneath the mystic boughs, among
Whose living leaves a crowd
Of spirit voices, weak and strong,
Sing all that God allowed).
Oh! wondrous was that faery strain,
Too holy to be heard
But by the soul with no profane
Imagination stirr'd —
Like a seer when his heart and brain
Are in the coming word,
And he bows low before the breath
Of that which, as a flame,
All that he is illumineth
And calls him as by name,
When one to him are Life and Death,
One honour and one shame.
Ah! so possessed I heard them sing,
The many voices who
Were the sense of a secret thing
That with the tree-life grew,
As it did from the same seed spring
And a dream-breath from it drew —
The mystic life which God had shut
Within the dark seed's core,
Diverse from all that He had put
In others evermore —
No hint of death behind it, but
Of life that is before!
The tree-life in more lives than this —
Of that it sings for aye —
And as I listened the world's hiss
In silence died away,
And the perfect life for all that is
Like a dream on me lay.
poem by Robert Crawford
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When The Wind Blows
So long child, Im on my way
And after all is done, after all is done
Dont be down, its all in the past
Though you may be afraid
So long child, its awful dark
And Ive never felt the sun
I dread to think of when
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
Life burns a savage wound, angry and wrong
Trusting a twisted word, youll run, run away
Youll take him home
Youll spit and taunt him
But they wont believe you
No matter what youll say
So long child, its awful dark
I never felt the sun
I dread to think of when
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wild Wind
There is a place the spirit goes
Where the wild wind blows,
Where none are bound
And only freedom to love is found -
A spot of the soul
Where dreams alone can go,
To wildly spin
Upon this moving wind -
A far off land
Way ahead of man,
Where the breeze of eternity blows
And the life from God forever flows -
Into the heart
That's been torn apart,
Comes this wild Wind,
To take, and to heal, to love, and to feel, again and again.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Allemande
Allemande, where have you gone?
Did I know anything about you?
Many moons have come and gone
They wane so easily without you
All along I said we'd be sorry
Sorry, and so we are
But ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows you home?
Sorry, sorry, and so we are
Allemande, your face so long
And all my silly hopes hung on you
All along I said we'd be sorry
Sorry, and so we are
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows you home?
Sorry, sorry, and so we are
Oh, the way that the wind blows you home
Sorry, sorry, and so we are
song performed by by Keane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Color Of The Wind
The wind blows blue
when it misses you.
the wind blows red
when it knows your dead.
the wind blows green
when it it sees you being mean.
the wind blows white
when your about to take flight.
the wind blows black
whenever it knows your not coming back.
the wind blows pink
whenever your blood is ink.
the wind blows orange
whenever you cant rhyme with orange.
the wind blows yellow
whenever you cant be mellow.
if i am black
then why wont you ever come back?
if i am red
then shall i weep because your dead?
if i am blue
then should i miss you?
if i am green
then must you be very mean?
if i am yellow
then why wont you be mellow?
poem by Jasmine Appelhaus
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As the cold wind blows
As the cold wind blows
I smile and laugh
As the cold wind blows
Im warm and safe
As the cold wind blows
The fire inside is hot
As the cold wind blows
My love is not for naught
As the cold wind blows
My love keeps me warm
As the cold wind blows
I feel only this love
Warming me making me
The man I am today
As the cold wind blows
I know soon this cold wind will blow away.
poem by Troy Nichols
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In the steps of Rumi 87: A Windy Day
Isn’t it a windy day?
The wind gets everywhere,
loves especially to have fun,
enjoys rattling loose doors as if it would come in,
to become a quiet household pet,
or just disappear up the chimney
to meet itself again…
loves corners especially,
piles its toys up in them;
loves robes, veils, laughs, exposing
forbidden body parts;
sweeps the streets clean of plastic bags
then just for fun, blows them around again;
loves especially, laundry on the line –
fills out men’s shirts into dancing fat men;
would wind like to laugh at man?
then from fun play, can get serious –
tests whether that corrugated iron roof
to your makeshift shed is really secure..
later, you may be glad it did...
then from serious to boisterous:
takes on the sea itself, which
likes a bit of fun, but then
gets angry when provoked too much…
then when it’s gone, it’s gone
back to wherever wind comes from…
before it goes, let’s wrap up, take
a laughing walk and tussle with it;
come back, cheeks glowing,
eyes sparkling, laughing,
light-hearted… what did we meet out there?
some say, that wind is really fire,
which stirs our blood like that;
that fire brings life; that life brings spirit;
that spirit is but love; and love,
the breath of gods, of God;
the wind blows where it will.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wendell Gee
Thats when wendell gee takes a tug
Upon the string that held the line of trees
Behind the house he lived in
He was reared to give respect
But somewhere down the line he chose
To whistle as the wind blows
Whistle as the wind blows, with me
He had a dream one night
That the tree had lost its middle
So he built a trunk of chicken wire
To try to hold it up
But the wire, the wire turned to lizard skin
And when he climbed inside
There wasnt even time to say
Goodbye to wendell gee
So whistle as the wind blows
Whistle as the wind blows, with me
If the wind were colors
And if the air could speak
Then whistle as the wind blows
Whistle as the wind blows
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mystic Moon
the mystic moon she shines so bright
it fills our hearts with the power of light
mystic me she calls to us
for us to live a life we can not rush
the mystic moon
her silver wind
blows through our world
and binds us to her
mystic moon
why do you love us so
we are born of darkness
yet you shine your light as our protector
mystic moon i understand
you are the darkness in wich we command
poem by Jasmine Appelhaus
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Still women love men
Wind in spring blows;
Petals wither.
Wind in summer blows;
Fruits fall down.
Wind in autumn blows;
Leaves are shed.
Wind in winter blows;
Barks get cracks.
Still trees love wind.
Still women love men.
27.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Ancient Dust Of My Homeland
Spirit of Mystic Aoteaora, enter into me
Land of Long White Cloud, enter into me
Spirit of My Forebears Ancestors, enter into me
Spirit you called Legendary Fairy Folk, enter into me
Spirit of ice capped southern mountains,
rivers forests glaciers, enter into me
Spirit of this old mystic majestic land,
encapsulating my birthright, enter into me
Dark majestic nights descend
upon wild west coast beaches,
Moonlight lapping serene wave tops
sparkling with ephemeral magic
Spirit of multitudinal diverse natures
Blowing in spray blown sea breezes,
Spirit of ancient dust of my homeland
Spirit of ancient Aotearoa, enter into me
Aotearoa (pronounced [aoˌ teaˈ roa]) is the most widely known and accepted Mā ori name for New Zealand.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Mi Vida Loca
(pam tillis/jess leary)
If you're coming with me you need nerves of steel
'cause i take corners on two wheels
It's a never-ending circus ride
The faint of heart need not apply
Mi vida loca over and over
Destiny turns on a dime
I go where the wind blows
You can't tame a wild rose
Welcome to my crazy life
Sweetheart before this night is through
I could fall in love with you
Come dancing on the edge with me
Let my passion set you free
Mi vida loca over and over
Destiny turns on a dime
I go where the wind blows
You can't tame a wild rose
Welcome to my crazy life
Here in the firelight i see your tattoo
Mi vida loco, so you're crazy too
Mi vida loca over and over
Destiny turns on a dime
I go where the wind blows
You can't tame a wild rose
Welcome to my crazy life
We'll go where the wind blows
And i'll be a wild rose
Welcome to my crazy life
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wind That Ever Blows
The wind that ever blows,
opens my heart's Rose.
The clouds on the face of Sun,
playing with wind and all over Run.
The chirp of sparrow makes me to feel,
gazing in the sky standing on my heel.
The wind that ever blows,
Opens my heart's Rose.
The Blue color of the Sky gives pleasure to my eyes,
like, wants to take me out from the world of lies.
The rustling of leaves makes me gay,
to stand up and with them play.
The wind that ever blows,
opens my heart's Rose.
This time I just want one,
The ALLAH EXALTED (GOD) and NONE,
and this time except HIM no one my feeling knows,
The Wind that ever Blows,
Opens my heart's Rose....
(SEEMA REHMAN)
poem by Seema Rehman
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Thy memory
In the desert of my unending gloom,
I feel thy hand on my visage,
The intensity of my pain retreats,
The frangrance of thy being
Lights up, in me,
The spirit of vivacity,
My days are luminious,
My nights are colourful.
I feel the moisture of thy hair
As the rain comes,
I feel thy touch
As the wind blows,
I experience spring
In the autumn of my life,
The flowers of thy memory
Bloom everywhere.
But Ah!
As soon as thy memory departs,
The world becomes dark to me
And my spirit.
I am lost in my business again,
The business of memorizing thee.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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A Voice On The Wind
I
She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
II
Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
III
She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
IV
Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
V
'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Life’s Cycle
A gasp of air was sent from above
and was carried further on the wings of a dove.
A gust of wind carried it on to its intended place
where an intake of breath gave a life its first taste.
This first breath known as a life giving spirit
stays with a soul until it reaches life’s limit.
From there it’s returned from whence it came
to be rejuvenated and sent to a new life again.
poem by Orlando Belo
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