don't try to tell the wind where to blow
for it will blow where it will and take your voice with it
leaving you soundless and breathless
and vainly searching for absolution
but the spirits have your voice
(a handle on your soul)
and when your soul is theirs you will know pain
(and pleasure)
but never satisfaction
and should they give you up to those long forgotten gods
who will belittle you for fun
until your soul is weary and twisted
then abandon you in forget-me-mot forest
where you will be gone but not forgotten
and you may wander the winding labyrinth
two steps from sanity and one from madness
untill you somehow wander out
and you will stand and shake your fist at the sky
as you curse yourself
for attempting to tell the wind where to blow