Powered
by Br. David Kaczmarek, TOR

The constant wind shatters that slats of blinds
that can strike the sun,
but never wall the wind.
Slats striking like castanets,
or shuffling cards, with rhythm and pulse,
and even more pulse that is felt
when sounds are silent.
The constant wind is full
of fast feats of power,
bowing the grass low,
or casting the bird to flight;
to trust in constancy�
and constantly trust�
the wind to hold aloft the dream.
And all is real in the push
of the unseen rush,
for what is truly felt,
is also rarely seen,
but constant
in the need to soar.





� 2006, Third Order Regular of St. Francis of Penance, Immaculate Conception Province.
All Rights Reserved.