The Stranger on the Wind   There came a man, striding As I on my colt was riding He with a weary step but a bright, bold gaze The rumors and whispers did not him faze He strode through the village, sweeping it with his eye And I heard the hushed talk as I rode by.   Some said ‘He’s a soldier, past With his mind echoing a thunderous battle blast Remembering; he cannot in one place remain nor last So he; a wandering soul, goes on.’   Some said ‘He’s a yearning lover Tossed by dreams of a lady alike to no other Who was stolen by a jesting bard while he; a lordly sir So he; a wandering soul, goes on.’   I watched him walk through the town His head up, his shoulders down He knew, no doubt the words they uttered With each repeating what they had heard But if you were to ask him, as I did that day He would smile a traveler’s smile and this is what he’d say   ‘I have heard there is ever a change on the wind I long to find this thing, and so on this journey, send I hope to forget my evil ways and undo each heartless deed So I seek the wind’s every fleeting move like stag and hunter’s steed. The gale never rests as through the trees it flies Nor does the breeze falter when the world in darkness lies It always stirs, always breathes, always lives and never dies Sometime, somewhere, In sky, cloud or air.’   ‘I follow the wind wherever it leads I’ve watched it uproot and then plant seeds It brushes the heat with its long, cool fingers It moves on and on, never stops, never lingers’   Then he turned to the road ahead And with a determined laugh he said ‘I hunt it day, dream, and night I always follow, with it in my sight But the wind moves on and so must I So now, my friend I bid you goodbye. Until the morrow becomes a year When the wind turns, I’ll see you here Remember the wind, as it remembers you And as I hunt it, I will too’   Then he left as the breeze began to pick up With his hat out held to the wind as if catching it in a cup ‘Farewell’ I whispered and turned away Knowing that forever would I remember that day When the strangest of strangers passed my way   The stranger on the wind, has touched it with his fingers He knows that it moves on and on, it never stops, never lingers Nor does it falter, even when the world in darkness lies It always stirs, always breathes, always lives And never dies.