Je Suis Le Vent

I think the way the arrow flies is how i see my life:
A rush of turbulence and strife upended with clear vision.
As the vision comes to pass it seems the earth does know,
So in jealously it rises up to swallow me and bring the night.

Or is it I am the air that is jostled by the arrow's flight?
Knocked aside by razors edge then caught by feather wings.
Carried for a lifetime to places never known
And deposited upon shallow earth to sit atop its wooden throne.

If I said I was the wind, would you turn away and laugh?
The one that feels the most at home panting shallow breaths.
The one that lives to bound and tussle within some outer chaos
Exists within to know himself and his oft conflicting elements.

Yet peace is not an end to conflict, I'm sure the wind does know.
It is simple maturation of the individual and so
External vision may reveal a shattered saddened past
But words revealed from sadness's steel and quenched in loves reserve
Are often clear as summer days and accurate as arrows guided by a smiling

Breeze.