Lost

Uncharted.

It's silent. 

Lifeless. 

Only the wind creaks,

With meaningless direction,

Circling around hills and valleys,

Blind. 

It pulls and tugs against it's surroundings,

Screaming for stable pathways,

Looking for purpose, 

Warm tunnels and enclosures,

Mute. 

In rage it runs,

Circles in confusion,

Spins with forceful anger,

Grabs on all around it,

With sky-like tears and clouded mind,

A black hole of water and air.

All run in fear,

With no intention of getting close,

Afraid of the unbreakable chains,

Naive of the lost wind. 

The tycoon breaks the shore,

Damaging no one but itself, 

Overwhelmed by its misguided nature,

Lost.