Which Dance Mirrors Your Existence?

When the wind blows nobody sees it. Only the dance of the grass and the swaying of the trees, which mirror it in their motion. Invisible, it push ships across oceans, turns the sails of turbines, and whistles through the gaps in the doors.

You would not know it was there, if it didn’t cool you on a hot summer day, or chill you to the bone in the depth of winter. It would pass by unnoticed if it didn’t whip up the waves that crash against beach, or carry the willow fluff through the air. It wouldn’t exist if it didn’t inch the clouds across the sky, or turn the tornados across the southern states.

We can’t see the wind, only that which it touches. We can’t see it, but we can feel it as it passes us by. It wouldn’t exist, were it not mirrored in the dance of nature.

If you were the wind, how would we know you were ever there? What bares the mark of your touch? What did people feel as you passed by? In what dance is your presence mirrored?

Do you turn the sales and drive the ships? Do you carry in the air? Who do you cool and who do you chill? And what waves will you whip up when you arrive at the shore?

Which grasses sway and which trees bend in your company? Who do you animate and bring to life just by being you?