Artist: Radiohead
Album: Kid A
Track: Treefingers
I wrote this poem. Its for you.
Born to Wind
This prince of wind,
searching for free chimes,
to rustle leaves of detail.
In haste, he sleeps here.
Spreading scent,
of travellers asunder.
Whistling through trees,
he makes them bend, break.
Stealing heat and cold,
precipitously he runs.
Flowing, writhing, powering
savant of abscond art.
Draw, extend his reigns,
delivering pull, rendering push.
Filling sails forward,
moved by invisible tide.
Soar, phoenix, soar.
Ride arrows of motion,
pillars of flame,
you, predator, our prey.
From pole to summit,
terrain and ocean,
on his journey.
Never knowing his origins.