Hold Without Touching

The wandering wind no man can hope to hold;
No gilded cage will keep it from its flight.
The wind can’t be bought with bars of gold,
Alone, it flees under cover of night.

The unshackled light of a winter’s moon
Shines beauty for all who pass in its way.
But woe unto he who wants it in June,
Once held, a moonbeam’s fair luminance fades.

A lone, vivid rainbow hangs in the sky
Far above the reach of a mortal bone.
It fears, out of love, a man would try
To catch it, keep it, and call it his own.

Some things are destined to be lonely, but free:
The wind, the moonbeam, the rainbow, and me.