The beauty of the winds

The gusts of the wind sweeps under my feet,
And as I continue to tarry along.
Underneath my shoes, I hear the crunching of leaves,
As the wind continues to howl.

Tiny chills travel up my spine,
And so I hug myself in my furry coat,
Afraid of being swept off the ground.

I stop to find a place of retreat.

How amazing it is, that something can be both a gift and punishment,
Both a mercy and a destroyer.
What would the world be without the breath of wind,
Brushing against my cheeks.

My Lord swears by the Winds in His sacred book,
From the winds which are like wild horses,
Preparing to be unleashed.
Carrying in them, tiny droplets,
Waiting for their Lords command to Be.

Or like those winds so merciless,
Travelling here and there,
Seeking out to destroy and cause destruction,
Like it did to those of old.
A source of pain; a source of death.

To the Merciful winds, that serve to spread,
Dispersing the clouds so white,
And from them fall, the source of all life,
Rain, rain,
And pollen too.

Random acts of Mother nature, they say,
If only they but knew,
That these are calculated acts of my Lord,
He, who Created me and you.

So next time you feel the touch of the wind,
Or feel the shivers in your spine,
Don't forget that even the wind has a purpose to fulfil,
As it submits to its Lords command.

Yet, here you are, O slave of Allah,
Lost in the illusion of this world,
Don't get caught in the rat race of life,
For you too have a purpose to fulfil.

Inspired by the ayahs:
"By those [winds] sent forth in gusts, And the winds that blow violently, And [by] the winds that spread [clouds]." [77:1-3]