Harness the Wind

Oh don’t we think ourselves grand?

We fly through the sky while others are on land.

Aren’t we fine? That we’ve made a road,

A passage in the sky that breaks the mold.

We have harnessed the wind to carry our race,

To keep up with our increasingly greater haste.

And now we worship man with his incredible mind,

Who an ingenious air-machine did design.

Say he’s now able to control the air.

But wind is wind and has always been there.

So tell me now, who can harness the wind?

Tell when storms will strike or tornadoes spin?

Indeed the weatherman, you say.

Yes he can predict, but not harness in any way!

So why do the scientists behind airplanes and motors,

Win admiration and titles of heroes?

While geniuses perhaps and inventors for sure,

It’s like they’ve stopped at an uphill without searching for more.

For if I studied science and the movement of air,

About shapes and dynamics I would not care!

Because if I realized what was behind this vast invisible force,

Our puny helpless human minds would seem coarse.

Because if science was my calling, and wind was my game,

I would bring the Force behind it to greater fame.

Explaining that my tiny mind has simply found,

A way to ride the enormous powers that without our human help still abound.

That I haven’t the intelligence or brain to understand,

The incredible design behind the properties of wind.

So I would make known to the world,

The Creator of wind would surely be heard!

But sadly our human minds are so small,

Think only of the this , of the here, of the now.

So forget the big picture, throw ‘creation’ out the door.

Because if we can be famous now, why consider more?

If we could analyze our definition and description of ‘success,’

The  amount of ‘me’’s in it would make a great mess.

Those mixed with ‘self’ and ‘fortune’ and ‘renown,’

Should make even the smallest of thinkers frown.

But when it comes down to it, we’re selfish and narrow,

And covetous thoughts run in our very marrow.

“If I were famous, I wouldn’t ruin my life.”

“If I were rich I’d try to end all strife.”

No doubt if we ever reach that vaguely promising goal,

Gone will be our resolve and our sanity in whole.

(Except for a few, I am told,

Who to their beliefs do strongly hold.)

So what has this to do with harnessing the wind?

This story I’m telling of man’s general whim?

Simply to prove a point:

We are not in control.

That each day we’re falling into a disgustingly small hole,

Where we claim that man’s small mind can achieve,

Any small notion our equally simple brains will believe.

We fail to look at the big pictures of things,

We see only the clouds on an infinite horizon.

We claim to harness the wind,

When in fact we cannot even harness our sin.

And the world will continue to spin and spin,

When instead of the haystack, we look at the pin.