Grasping The Wind Poem by Daniel Brick

O Wind,
invisible, tactile, fleeting.
how can I grasp you?
You rush over me, beyond me.
Your powers make you one
with the World's original forces.
When all else was formless,
when nothing had a shape
that did not dissolve, when no thing
could say, 'Look at me: I exist!
I fill these contours. I carry this weight.
I occupy these places.' Only silence
and empty places. Everything had fallen
into formlessness, collapsed before
the blank power of nothingness.
Except you, O Wind. Your presence
made smells linger, made rough things
smooth, made branches shiver. Birds
returned to build nests, squirrels stored
their stash, deer walked between trees
in absolute silence. I alone know your
worth, but others are learning to appreciate
your presences, your absences. They bow
to me, because the the Wind is the shape
and sound of Creation, and the Wind is
my friend. It chose me among men.
O Wind, let the Acts of Creation prevail.