Colors of the Wind

Spring and summer
Every other day
Blue wind gets so sad.
Blowin' through the thick corn
Through the bales of hay
Through the open books on the grass...

Spring and summer

Sure, when it's autumn
Wind always wants to
Creep up and haunt you -Whistling, it's got you
With its heartache, and its sorrow
Winter wind sings and it cries . . .

Blue Wind, Spring Awakening


I don't know what all the colors are. It might take me a lifetime to figure it all out. And even if I won't get to, blue wind has given me enough perspective to know that it's alright.

An acquaintance asked me recently if I'd be interested to see a fortune teller. I plainly said no - I like the not knowing part; I like the mystery. The truth is, I'd get freaked out even if I won't be inclined to believe. I may be alone in this but I think that life is beautiful exactly because you can't understand it. The element of surprise keeps us on our toes; it keeps the blood flowing through our veins; it's what tickles our brains. We anticipate; we hope; we dream to prosper.

Maybe blue wind does tend to blow in the direction of those who try to dig a little deeper in the mystery - those who can't live through two-dimensionality. Because, in the end, all our questions are the same. The difference lies on how we accept our answers.