The Four Winds of Song

What hope is there for me? I who live in
Circumstances far removed from living,
Where not a second thought will be given
To the needs of those around me? To sing
Is a gift, a melody; it transforms
Dark streets into a summer lit day where
Oppression, uncertainty, doubt, life's norms,
Are scattered by the four winds of song. Cares
Are sent by train to the sea, worries by
Car: where they will accompany by boat
Anxiety and depression; to die
By any of these things is to live rote.
For men have it backwards, hope is not seen
As a gift; yet towards it all men still lean.

                      The Four Winds of Song, (c) Luke Bennette, June 2012