My Scrolls

The Whistler in The Wind (31.3.16)

“The whistler in the wind requires a lot of practice.

The whistler in the wind achieves very little unless guided by the will to set up signalling to the barkers of the flocks.

The whistler in the wind of God sends a signal of contentment,

                                                              a signal of partial loneliness,

                                                              a signal where the content is often copied,

                                                                                                         is oft repeated,

                                                                                                         is oft disjointed in fits and starts,

                                                                                                         is oft tuneless in the absence of a skill,

                                                                                                         is sometimes tuneful in matching the notes and timbre of a song.

The whistler in the wind sets the self a challenge in establishing a meaning with intent:

                                         is not expectant of a reply,

                                         can wander back and forth,

                                         can cycle up and down,

                                         as the mind strays without direction while the lips are far from clear.

The whistler in the wind is not seeking understanding,

                                        is filling in the silence with activity and sound,

                                        is within a loop which is difficult to stop,

                                        is stuck in repetition where the notes are very limited,

                                                                          where the key is unimportant,

                                                                          where the level of the skill is not in question,

                                                                          where the birds fail to recognize a chortle from a chuckle.

The whistler in the wind is happy in his whistle,

                                        does not seek attention,

                            does not seek an interruption which terminates the whistle.

The whistler in the wind sometimes needs to whet his whistle,

                                        finds it difficult when the mouth is dry,

                                        finds improvement with concentration,

                                               is immaterial when calling for attention,

                                                                 when seeking the lost or the mislaid companion.

The whistler in the wind is not frustrated by the effort,

                                        is not discouraged by a request to stop,

                                        is not disconcerted by a lack of appreciation.

The whistler in the wind speaks of a soul within an environment waiting for completeness;

                                                    of a soul waiting in expectation for an intrusion to the thought pattern;

                                                    of a soul waiting for the time piece of man to separate the divisions within a life.

The whistler in the wind drifts into silence with the attention-getter of the moment,

                                                                     with the bird in flight across the sight lines,

                                                                     with an insect intruding on the peace of mind.

The whistler in the wind restores the lips in readiness to resume from where the whistle dwindled to a stop in midpoint
                                                                                                                                                                                    of the breath.

The whistler in the wind mixes patience with concentration,

                                                                 with mixed success at producing the whistle going forth:

                                                                                                                      the constancy of the whistle as emitted,

                                                                                                                      the whistle without improvement of the fingers,

                                                                                                                      the whistle without an accessory in the mouth.

The whistler in the wind is relaxed in stance,

                                        is relaxed in putting a foot into the wind,

                                        is relaxed with the tethering of a kite within the sky.

The whistler in the wind watches the drifting of balloons with the baskets hanging under the canopies catching the residues of fire.

The whistler in the wind watches the yachts scudding on their way with helmsmen in delight,

                                                                                                              leaning overboard with ropes at the point of balance.

The whistler in the wind retreats lower in the hide as the guns are pointed;

                                                                                 as ducks or geese take avoidance action,

                                                                                 as the shot is thrown into the air,

                                                                                 as the dead and dying are returned promptly to the earth,

                                                                                 as the fortunate continue on their way.

The whistler in the wind is not an innocent bystander,

                                        shares a common goal with the victims—

                                                           in seeking to feed the mouths at home;

                                                                                          so seeks his pounds of flesh,

                                                                                                   as gathered from the marsh lands—

                                                                                                              which survivors know as a waypoint on a journey.

The whistler in the wind knows the days of wind,

                                        knows the reading of the clouds,

                                        knows the smell of rain,

                                        knows the activity selected for the day and the resultant need for preparation.

The whistler in the wind knows little of the God within eternity:

                                                            of the opportunities being allowed to go to waste;

                                                            of the opportunities not being uplifted in fulfilment of the offerings of God;

                                                            of the opportunities which can change a destiny
                                                                                                                  from one set as default to the one in freewill choice. 

The whistler in the wind can develop a thankful heart—

                                                         with understanding of the need for the blessings of grace—

                                                                                                        accompanying the development of faith—

                                                                                                                          all enabling access to an eternal destiny of renown.”


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