Trees swaying, birds flying,
Rains falling, waves crashing;
The wind howls with all its might,
Small children are scared at night.

Today it roars, tomorrow no more,
Look and see, what had been before;
The wind dies down as though not there,
To know where it goes, that is rare.

It whispers softly on a quiet day,
Try as you will to keep it at bay;
No such luck for any to succeed,
For one cannot grasp it, difficult indeed.

Yet stand tall in its face,
As you run this life race;
For your journey is not one fleeting,
There is a Man you will be meeting.

On that Day, all shall stop,
The Lion on its mountain top;
The wind has made its final call,
For those who seek not to fall.

Flowers blooming, birds singing,
Sun shining and you are living.
Know the path set before you,
Our time here is almost due.