Wind

There in the wind.
Blossoms so beautiful.
They must be sin.

In the heart of every gust.
A colour that overcomes.
A lust.

So strong.
It makes the trees sway.
And dance along.

A love so steep.
That the rivers sing.
Calling out from the deep.

Between love and pain.
Between death and life.
The wind remains.

But to carry the leaves.
To carry the colors.
To new eves.

Life death.
Lust and pride.
In every breath.
Till it dies.