The winter wind whips my auburn locks up into the air. It dances like flames upon a fire pit. Wind's Fool cannot escape the whims of its master.
It is pulled and dragged at the call of its owner, much like how my being is ruled by my frivolity. The impulse of my wicked heart stirs a storm in me, it flings my conscious until it is battered and beat No longer able to contest for the well being of my soul.
So I am left to surrender to the ever changing cycles of my whimsy that leaves me bereft of stability.
But the Lord pulls me from the harsh clutches of my dark self, and champions the fight for my soul, Forever victorious.