The winds of change, where do they blow?
Towards you, or away from you?
Do you welcome them with open arms?
Or you just run?
Thinking you can get away untouched,
Hoping to trick them,
Like a disobedient child, assuming you will get away uncaught.
We pray, invoke and call for them in our heavy, darkest nights,
Hoping that they will guide us through the unwished mists of coldest sorrows.
That is the only time we see the winds of change,
Like a lighthouse, reminder of a steady ground,
Still mocking the depths of waves,
Steady, still unbent by the endless blows.
We fear them when we feel at ease,
In the right place that we do not want to leave,
In the places where we want to dwell,
As change might ruin the comfort we are heavenly wrapped in.
But like all the winds,
They cannot be controlled,
We all get touched,
Not even knowing that time has come,
No warning sign of what will be,
No guide to show us the way we must go through.
Sometimes they come to help,
As lingering far too long in the warmth of the well-known,
Blinds us, making us not wanting to move on.
Not willing yet to give a chance to the winds of change.
Sometimes they come to shake us deep from our roots,
From the foundations of our lives,
From the beliefs of our times,
Ripping off the layers of the well-known,
Ripping off the cosy shell of the comfort’s warmth.
When the winds of change arrive and give us their strongest blow,
They shake us deep, touching the marrow of our bones,
Like a tornado erasing all in front of it,
All being swept away,
Making a fresh space where you can start to build,
Having no plans in your empty hands,
Only the hope that for the next hit,
You will be more prepared, more deep-rooted to the ground,
More experienced than before,
As winds of change will continue to run their course,
Not giving warning signs of any sort.
Lots of love,
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