The animal was more than a brute, a cold hapless meat
Between the sockets of his ears ruled the music of the wind
Whether he liked the wind more or the music
Was the question for a King before he his dethroned
Should I allow the fly to sit upon my nose?
Is yet another question for the clouds to gauge speed
Of the wind and be blown away through the ether
If it exists but the philosopher was silent at his core
Could you tell me the story of Helen of Troy?
Sure comes the voice I must heed to
I am naked in the storm, walking towards the wind of rain
It is raining really hard now.