I don't like the wind, he said.
But how then, would the sail boats sail?
And how would the wind mill turn?
And what about the bird, that hovers magically still in the air? That must be fun.
Imagine if we condemned the clouds, to be only still? Never to move, or change shape.
Imagine a world where the trees could not speak? No whispering, no creaking, no rustling.
One day, you will thank the wind. Perhaps on a humid day, when the sun bites. Or maybe when you need reminding that love is invisible, unless seen in action.
So embrace the wind, my son, for all its beauty.
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