Wind Of My Soul Poem by Grant House

see the moon

I howl at it
then head out
in that direction
mindful that
the future
is the wind
rustling the bushes
nearby

nothing ever
comes of this
until the walking
starts

I wonder

what might
the wind know
that I forgot

what great or small
mystery
calls me
to wander
this way
or that
a little drunk
with the vastness
of this universe
of possibilities

tonight
the moon
lights the way

tomorrow clouds

some see me stumbling
around in the darkness
lost

I know better

I am always arriving
at my destination
when I trust the wind