She is the wind

I sit in solitude, lost in reverie, Gazing through the window of my heart. She shows the way to lost and sullen clouds. She is everywhere— Dancing with waves in silver light, Drifting through woods on silent night, Whispering soft where lost souls sleep, Playing where wildflowers leap. She knows everything— There is nothing one can hide: The oldest stories ever told, The mysteries the dark may hold. She listens, yet never speaks. She lingers, yet never stays. She tends with grace, destroys with force. She is cradle, and she is grave. She moves in silence—fierce and thin. She is the wind.