Of him who is the wind beneath my wings
“ In mighty gusts the wind today swirled around the beach, blew the sand……
The powerful things which would not bend, resisted…. snapped and broke away…
..and yet I saw a Seagull rest upon the strength of the same wind.
She spread her wings and gently leaned as if against her lover’s breast…”
Engulfed in gratitude once again, my heart I bare, hopeful that even as your eyes skim over these lines, every encumbrance that you bear would be lightened, even if for just a while.
No shackles, no bondages, free, buoyant and happy. Airborne and soaring ; on the wing. Closely, this is how it has been as I traversed through life from as long as I can remember.
Scarcely do I recall putting on the ‘worry hat’. Never did I permit it to drown me. An urge of eagerness and readiness, motivation and keenness is what usually drove me, a force that hardly ever consented to weigh me down.
I would always face the bridge when I had to cross it. A little voice somewhere helped place a trust…. I seemed to know deep inside that things would fall into place.
Answers I didn’t have as to how or when and almost always it certainly did, somehow someway. A Que Sera attitude you could call the discipline I followed. A juvenile philosophy? Maybe so!
The lines of poetry quoted at the start were written to me once. Could I connect or relate to it? A pondered flashback says ‘Yes’, but how or why did I take this on? I have no rational reasoning. All I could understand was the pleasurable exuberance of carefree gliding, swooping flying and soaring. So often, as I reflect, have I also let myself fall, swooping down, almost hitting ground, and then I would suddenly take wing and be lifted. Yes, ‘ be lifted’ I say as I couldn’t ever have picked myself up with such adroit deftness or at so precise an appointed time.
A realization too invaluable, too enormously immense to miss or snub, today in exaltation, honour and adoration I spread my wings identifying with the Seagull and continuing to fly, soar, swoop and glide, resting upon the strength of the same wind, that strength beneath my wings.
That strength that has been carrying me through both the calm and storms of strong gusts of breeze the course of which was almost smooth-sailing forever lifted beyond the reach of the tempest.
So along with the lyricist in gratefulness I voice the lines:
“ You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders You raise me up…. To more than I can be.”