When wind speaks it says: "I am the river." "I am the torrent of tearing flame." "I remove bodies." And "I hold void. I have no shape." And I heard this Standing on the street looking south to the hill Where clouds were rising Echoing my body, being emptied and filled "Wind's poem by mount eerie" Recited by tongues made of wood In no language Reverently misunderstood By me, and then passed on in the dream world Deluded and proud, form greeting form Wind screaming By mount erie, among the cliffs by the hillside, among the clouds that never lift Saying: "I am the river." "I am the ocean of changing shape." "I bring bodies." And "in the void you heard my name And you are like me. You are nothing but a place Where dust is dancing." And then I gust that made me shake: So, Fleeting and young With mythologies pulled from lack I wake up repeatedly And belong to the black Meanwhile the moon in my mind Shines brightly