Love is like the wind,
You never know where it comes from,
You never know where it's going.
Taking you places you can't predict,
Filling your members while it's blowing.
Letting you fly naively,
Unpredictably.
Moving the stillest waters in the highest coral,
Driving back the fiercest of objects.
Conjuring up the mightiest of storms,
Both creative and destructive: cold and warm.
It's mysterious and uncontrollable,
Being often avoided and planned for,
But yet inevitable and spontaneous.
Always catching its victim unaware.
It carries the sharpest piercing objects in its furry,
And the sweetest most gentle kiss in its innocence,
Being both unwanted when cold and fierce,
And praised when warm and gentle.
Love is indeed like the wind,
Pushing the graceful bird ever higher towards the sun,
Keeping the meekest insect pinned on a leaf,
Carrying the amusing kite of the lonely child.
Being chased by many and never caught,
Never graspable or tangible,
Never created or induced,
Only felt and experienced when it moves,
When it blows.