wind chimes…

I love when the wind blows and storms become just a part of the wind. wind becomes a weapon and gusts at wicked speeds. Then you can lose the certainty of trees remaining rooted in the ground and branches snapping, not swaying in the breeze.

Rain can hit your cheeks like needles, or hail like stones your head, bowing your feeble attempts to cover up as you rush to find shelter from Nature’s knocking. Woe betide you scream to warn a friend. Snatched away as easy as medicine from a febrile baby’s clutched hand.

Danger and beauty co-exist. the relative safety net is removed and you are perhaps for a time, as vulnerable as snail horns. The storm passes and your normalcy and height returns. A handful of lives lost, the unlucky few crushed and outworn by roof tiles or vehicle turnovers or trunks and branches.

Nature is all our master and mistress. Despite Nature, Civilisations have risen and fallen under all of Nature’s conditions, whether cold or wet or dry or hot. Other species know nothing of our vain attempts to leave our mark on this earth.

Earth, Water, Air, Fire. So basic; so destructive in extremis, so positive with the right balance. Seek balance seems to be the sum of the wisdom in the world, the rest is inevitable and unpredictable anyway. Is this where God comes into the equation?

Our Will avoids or rather limits his textual discourse in his sonnets to the natural and secular world, and the imagined mythic world of the Muses, where Adonis and Helen, like Brangelina or Becksnposh, can be invoked as bit players in his argument, for his sweet love’s beauty.

‘Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell;
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with Princes if it shall go well,
By oft predict that I in heaven find.’ Q14.

Shakespeare wasn’t a somebody; he was a nobody. Except naturally to his direct environment and its reach. Richard Burbage, he was a somebody. But an actor nonetheless.

‘As an unperfect actor on the stage’ (go find it)

And the wind chimes on!