THE PROPAGANDA OF THE WIND

When the clouds are mating

The winds throw dust into the eyes of interested parties

Then even highly inquisitive eyes will shut

Until each body in the mating posture cools

Minds are so wonderful,

That though they know something sinister is ongoing,

They bury them deep and live in the day

Moving on with new trends

Forgetting about the mating whose consequences

Will rise like an untamed lion

To devour them when they least expect.

When are we going to wish to be blinded

By the wind’s propaganda than close our eyes to our own fall?

It wouldn’t be bad buying expensive mind goggles

To watch this mating,

To try and separate them before they beget chaos.