Posts Tagged ‘mother and child’

When the Wind Blows

April 21, 2009 16 comments


When the wind blows and the world feels its invisible energy, the spirit dances in rhythm like an infant who takes his first step, occasionally losing his balance yet remains persistent to go on. When the wind blows and the dry leaves say goodbye to the branches, the child is mesmerized by such wonder despite his unawareness of the laws of the universe. When the wind blows, the child heart is singed with delight the way a new born rejoices to the taste of his mother’s breast. When the wind blows and the heat is swept aside, filling the thirst for coolness of physical countenance, the wizened and gaunt body leaps for joy like the mother who awaits her child’s arrival filling her heart with youthful gladness. And when the wind blows and his thin hair magically sways in its whistle, the inner sensation of a child glides along its tune – how beautiful! Oh, how wonderful is the child to dream big embodied by his wriggling kite in the clear blue sky, when the wind blows.

When the wind blows, and the sunlight burst to illuminate her milieu, how she likes to hold him in her arms and claim him hers forever. When the wind blows, she dances like a butterfly that has been liberated from the darkness of its cocoon; and how she wishes that she would constantly enjoy the moment forever. When the wind blows and her skirt frenetically flies, how she longs for freedom with her child in her bosom to take the ride of life. Oh, how eager for an Eve to pray for her child to grow upright, when the wind blows.

When the wind blows, no matter how poverty takes reign, the mother and the child feel like they own the world. When the wind blows, they experience the world is being fair to all hungry souls who either long for the fruit of nature or thirst for nourishment of the spirit. When the wind blows and the water ripples like mighty laces that animate the sea, how their hearts find consolation in hope for paradise. When the wind blows, and the leaves chatter like huddling prophets, how they both know that God never leaves them desperate. So when the wind blows and the leaves speak, the mother and child are reminded of the wide gate that awaits to welcome them to heaven. And oh, how Jesus regains its pallet and paints the world anew, when the wind blows.


P.S. I hope it’s not too late to greet everyone: Happy Easter!

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