Sol's Stray Poetry

Wind Haiku Remarkable how  a simple February  wind's thrashing hurry reminds us of what  else but everything that is uncontrollable beyond our own choice coming from all four corners gusts of chance and fate like the days blowing off one by one regardless of our mad clinging on to some daydream of immortality lost but then somehow found it's a myth guessing wind's inclination beyond what the trees tell us direction being a matter of perspective always relative like time-misted clouds unaffected by stray wind haunting sleep's damp cave remarkable how the moon gave permission to the wind to be wild beyond influence the convincing illusion we control our lives any more than wind decides its destination speed or duration which begs the question if not by our own design who is in control?