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The wind is me
And I am the leaves
And the leaves are the tree
And the tree is Jupiter

Red and stormy
Quaint and teal
Like water lilies
Floating in the emptiness
Of the human soul

Blackness, darkness
But you can find the purple
If one only remember
To turn on the sea

Blue and stormy
Quaint and crimson
Like the yellow of
The sun, rising up

Above the rest, the tarred
Bits of wreckage we call
Life, the swirls of snow that
Hold us back, buffeting

Us from the Universe, the
Unaltered form of purity
Of sacred simplicity
Of nonsensical nonexistent
Meaning