On.

Botticelli, The Birth of Venus (detail), 1486

KING WIND

Of all the weathers wind is king.
Snow would not blow, rain would not beat,
Nor green grasses ripple, nor trees break, 
Except for the will of this blind thing
That neither is seen nor sees, but anyway
Comes, and anyway goes -- from where
To where?  Nobody knows.

I never am tired of thinking of him.
Even in sleep -- but where is his bed? --
He dreams of filling the world again
With waves of water and walls of air
That neither can stop nor stand, but anyway
Rise, and anyway, fall.  So on
Forever.  Motion is all.

Mark Van Doren