As The Wind Blows

As the wind blows and the sun shines bright in the sky,

The smell of the changing weather gently brushes my nose.

In the distance, dark clouds loom,

A reminder of what’s to come.

Yet, it’s light here for now, my mind tells me.

My heart whispers otherwise.

I run my hands through the tips of wild heather,

Walking through fields toward an unknown destination.

I wonder: what is the true essence of me and of that around me?

Who am I?

The passionate psychiatrist? The devoted friend, lover of all things beautiful?

Or am I lost in the madness of this tumultuous world?

A thought occurs to me:

If I were to lose myself, would it be freedom?

Would my soul soar high like an eagle, majestically?

Would I finally breathe a sigh of release?

Would the sky moan with a cry of thunder?

Would it cry out with bolts of lightning?

Would the earth tremble for just a second,

To acknowledge that I once tread there lightly?

Would the winds whisper my name one last time,

As I lay in the earth, my body merging with the soil?

I could see the colors of the grass change,

Glistening with dew drops forever after.

A single rose dropped by my side,

Reminiscent of the essence of the passionate psychiatrist.

And then there was none.

Shall there be another awakening?

A second rising?

Will the soul ever escape the entrapment of its cage? Remains to be seen.

Meanwhile, the mound of earth faces the turquoise water,

And the waves keep crashing in and out.

The ebb and flow of life goes on,

And the cycle continues, as it rightfully should,

Says this humble poet.

~ Passionate Psychiatrist