Windswept Wishes

Upon a hill, beneath the sky's grand dome,
Where whispers of the ancient breezes roam,
There stands a soul, his eyes cast far and wide,
Seeking the secrets that the winds confide.

In gusts that curl, in zephyrs that entwine,
He finds the threads of dreams not solely mine.
A tapestry of hopes, of silent pleas,
Carried aloft on the unyielding breeze.

These windswept wishes, born from deep within,
Traverse the realms of what has been and been.
They dance with leaves, with clouds they gently sway,
Across the vast, in search of break of day.

The soul, he listens, for the wind imparts
The tales of countless, fervent, beating hearts.
Each gust a word, each breeze a verse anew,
Uniting strangers, me, and also you.

For in the whispers of the passing air,
Lies a connection, invisible yet fair.
A bridge of sighs, of laughter and of tears,
Spanning the chasm of our lonely fears.

So let your wishes to the winds be cast,
Not as relics of the bygone past.
But as seeds, to the future they're consigned,
In hopes that new horizons they will find.