The North wind told me, “clearly it’s a matter of science and things move in cycles.” Told me that, “all things that move and breathe with toil and sound are born and die; revolve, subside, and swell.” Because he too reads Shelly I have always respected the North wind, we hold that common ground.
The Western wind told me that if I continue to think myself in such circles that one day I will be too dizzy to see straight, and that is when we are the most vulnerable. She said that it isn’t a matter of science but a matter of living. The only thing we have is this life and the sooner I give it up, the quicker I will live more. I try always to emulate her laid back nature and it is she who reminds me in frenzied moments to slow down and take a deep breath. Even the rough moments are still moments.
When the South wind came to visit me we had tea near the window and she looked thinner than ever. She told me it wasn’t a matter of science and it wasn’t a matter of living, she said “this my friend is a matter of the heart.” She looked into her tea when she told me as if she was worried about how I would take the news. She was sure I had left my heart somewhere and generally worried as to how and when I may get it back. I told her it was okay, I may never get it back if that’s the case. When she left that afternoon I had a feeling things may never be the same after these rains.
It wasn’t until the Eastern wind came that I felt I truly needed the advice. Things had been spread thin and I was becomingly increasingly agitated by the circles I was drawing across the room. He showed up just in time. I told him and pleaded for a good solid answer; to tell me something the other winds hadn’t told me. I wanted him to tell me why everything is the way it is, and why it always happened to be this way. What wasn’t I seeing? The Eastern wind looked me in the eyes with his strong stare and broad smile. He told me it wasn’t about science and it wasn’t about living and it wasn’t about my heart. He told me, like I thought he would, that there are no answers. He told me that the rain meant nothing. That it was simply rain. And then he kissed me softly before leaving the door open on his way out. I don’t know who to believe.