Can'T Read Things From The Scrolls Of The Wind Poem by Miroslava Odalovic

The parchments of the breath from this soul benevolent
Won't howl or whimper with the words at the last stop
Before it's time to get off and give all the tickets back
The breeze never asked for the price of its freshness
And the storms never begged for a place to halt
So why should we - freaks of all things apparently purposeless
When we do what we do quite unintentionally
Which is I guess sometimes like living
Once you told me I should stop and think
What exactly I want to say
And do it I guess in the best way possible
But I don't think it'll ever be me
I grew out of the missions if ever been on ones and I already know
That something else is doing things for me
Sounds like captivity but it's nice to be out of one's own reach
Go beyond ego edges and sing the recollections
Of both the tempests and still air
And possibly find out it's all - me
Beautifully dissolved into the small particles of being
Still able to retain the deepest self untouched
So if you're trying to find things here
That easily rhyme with your wishes and desires
Momentous urges and long term drives
You might as well take it as a collateral damage of air
As the air we both breathe is anything but socially engaged
And still we can't do without it
It's no wonder in some languages it means ‘the whole spirit'