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Air of Relevance

Air of relevance, air of the unseen,
giver and sustainer of life,
rising from the dark into prominence,
the hidden authority of the winds,
the hands that are there but not there,
that hold up and propel the butterfly,
that speaks through the cracks in the trees,
that rustles the leaves with soft whispers,
that sings through the bell of the trumpet,
that converts the air into sweet music,
that shapes and molds it with loving breath,
pushing it around the bend of the portals,
breaking down matter into celestial fragments,
notes into prose and prose into music.
 
Or riding with the breath of the tempest,
the madness running through the sky,
cursing at the passive seas,
laughing at the glassy waters,
assembling the clouds together
in the teeth of the devil,
the blacks, the grays, the risen hell,
the home of the beast, the lofted lair,
the wild land with no laws or civility,
six hundred and sixty six miles from heaven,
an inch away in the vast desert of the skies,
a hell next door to heaven,
a quiet valley resting in the wicked arms
of the wicked beast in the wicked skies,
the monitor of the mood in the air,
the commander of the motion of the clouds,
the tyrant of the earth,
the giver and taker of life,
the relevance of the unseen,
the feel of its touch,
and the perplexity of its movement.

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