her voice is the wind (new)

her voice is the wind
neither steady nor failing
it scattered the leaves
one by one, far away
    in many directions
    with no single purpose
    her voice is the wind
    that scattered the leaves

her song is the breeze
a powerful grace
that captured the earth
in her lukewarm embrace
    heedless of motion
    her melody persists
    her song is the breeze
    that captured the earth

her dance is the storm
both splendid and strong
that tortures the soul
and shatters the heart
    forward, and backward
    unfeeling and kind
    her dance is the storm
    that tortures the soul

her gaze commands fire
at her touch, all is still
her breath lifts him higher,
for his wish is her will
    but his rise is arrested
    by a ceiling of grey
    and, for lack of a kiss
    his Word melts away

in the eye of the storm
he finds pause in her words
as her lips plead the sunlight
to abandon the shore
    the sands are now cool
    given rest from the flame
    but soaking in blood
    they may find life again

words fail, unspoken
as empty hearts bleed
but he knows that, for now,
her want is her need.

still,

    her movement is guiding
    his eyes to and fro
        by her touch and her beauty
        may hearts be made whole

in the wind, rain, and fog,
and the shadows, skin-deep
he finds virtue in patience
and patience in sleep
    because waiting is all
    that a cripple can do
    except cry out for help
    to begin life anew

the fog finds its home
'round the edges of joy
and waits, every morning,
for the smiling young boy
    who sprints through the darkness
    with the greatest of ease
    that daring young man
    who kisses the breeze

a storm drew the boy
from his mottled-brown tent
when thunder was heard
he jumped up, and went
    to find pieces of metal
    and other safe things
    to capture the lightning
    the storm always brings

the storm brought no light-
a murderer, instead:
sly stealer of faith,
inspirer of dread
    it smashed through the walls
    of false hopes and dead dreams,
    at the call of a boy
    who is more than he seemed

sorrow and joy
pretend to be coy
they flirt with each other:
young girl, younger boy
    they've lost sight of the story
    and the trust, from above
        yet neither is willing
        to suffer true Love

    so they settle for romance
    and the fun of the fling
    and as the two dance
    the other wind sings:

        "through fog, storm, and murder,
          through the burning i feel,
            i will wait for you here
              where true Love is real"

i will wait for You here
where true Love is real