I am the wind

I am the wind,
You are a rock.
I won’t let you tie me down.
You don’t let me lift you up.

A rock is surrounded by weeds.
The wind may pass by weeds,
but winds run wild and free,
Rocks and weeds stay put.

The wind likes light.
Free, and formless alike.
They can’t be grasp
But they are always felt.

A rock can only look up,
But the wind sees a whole.
An angry rock is still a rock,
But an angered wind is called a storm.

I am the formless wind,
and you are a heavy rock.
You have no hands to catch me,
And I have none to carry you along.


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