In the grip

Here amidst the certainty of life’s amazing grace
there lives a species known as man
and that species known for fickleness
sways like leaves on trees
in the breeze of inconsistency.

Seemingly unable to grab and hold the wind
and remain as meant to be
that species known as man
contorts the mind, dismisses heart,
and turns cartwheels on the ground.

Of course they end up dizzy
as naturally would be
when spinning on the ground
like leaves do in a breeze
and so that species known as man
becomes permanently and completely
in the grip of inconsistency.

First it’s this and then it’s that,
first we love and then we don’t,
because we don’t think to hold the wind
from the beginning to the end.

It’s fun, I think; sometimes it’s fun
to be dizzy on the ground
but when the wind is still
and nothing dictates the spin
I wonder, I wonder,
about that species known as man!