A tired woman walking on the street. She looks at her watch, checks the time she will be late. She walks by the gardens, ignoring the blooming flowers, the chirping birds. All she sees is her office, her only destination, everything else is a blur. The wind flows gently, the dried leaves rustle, her hair flows softly. She checks her watch again, she runs now, there is no time left. She runs fast creating her own wind with her as she dashes avoiding the hurdles in her way. The wind races along her, it competes but she sees nothing. The sound of the car horns are evident but she runs and alas! She reaches her destination. She huffs and breathes heavily and clenches her fists up in the air, a sign of victory. She made it a minute early. She moves to her cabin by the windowsill and sets up her desk. Then opens the window, the wind blows gently. She gets immersed in her work an hour, two hours but she is still drowned in her paperwork.
This time the wind doesn't hesitate it blows harder and it sends all her papers flying away, some under her desk, some down the floor. She is irritated but so is someone else. She quickly collects her papers and closes the window and sits down on her chair grumbling. The sky goes dark, trees swinging from the harsh wind, wrappers flying in the air. She is still immersed until something knocks on her window, she looks up it's the wind making the windowsill shake. She looks down on the papers, she is busy again.
The wind gives up. All its efforts go in vain. It is sad, it feels lonely. It does not want to be known as "it" anymore. We take and take but never give. He needs a little bit of attention, a little bit of care, a little bit of love for he has done so many things, he needs only a little in return. He is powerful enough to destroy but instead he chooses to be a gentle breeze and preserve.
He wonders how he is so important but still goes unnoticed.
