The Wind of Change

Quietly, like the breeze that blows the olive tree

The wind of change has come down from the hills to lead me home again

Through the last mile of sunshine.

As easily as the moon makes patterns on the lifeless lake

Man grinds the flowers of the fields beneath his heels

And you wonder if he feels love or even boredom.

And my friend the wind of change is asking questions.

Suddenly, there are now so many giants everywhere

So many men who think even God looks small when they are walking tall.

And the wind of change is smiling.

Could it be that his smile is just another kind of frown?

Because he knows the world is finally falling down and going back to dust

And if we trust those men who trample on the grass

Emptiness is all that we can ever hope to ask for.

Listen and hear the sound of the dying grass bleed

It's bleeding for man, and the fool he just won't understand.

Is it too late to change the wind of change?