The wind whispers softly, and it knows my name.
It caresses my ear and fills me with shame.
For it's always been there, at my back,
following me down each tortured track.
The lonely trails, the backroads at night,
I know, now, I should have done right.
Cold breeze, freezing on naked skin,
Punishment for a life that could've been.
At times I was cruel, later besought by tears,
proud and bold, then brought down by fears,
persistent voices telling me I was wrong,
I ignored the ancient wind's warning song.
And now, I know I face the end of my day,
I bow my head and, at last try to pray,
but words falter, their soft meanings stray,
That old wind comes along, and blows them away.
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