The Aim was Song
Before man came to blow it right
The wind once blew itself untaught,
And did its loudest day and night
In any rough place where it caught.
Man came to tell it what was wrong:
It hadn’t found the place to blow;
It blew too hard — the aim was song.
And listen — how it ought to go!
He took a little in his mouth,
And held it long enough for north
To be converted into south,
And then by measure blew it forth.
By measure. It was word and note,
The wind the wind had meant to be —
A little through the lips and throat.
The aim was song — the wind could see.
We not only have dominion over the birds and fish and beasts of the field and grasses and trees but also the wind, and perhaps one day, if we ever learn the method and gather the will, even the weather itself.
In the meantime let us continue to teach the wind its aim. Let us continue to harness for energy.