Motions Paradise Poem by LexicaL Field

I love it when the doesn't blow too fast.
I hate it. When the wind rushes at a haste.
When the wind winds out of control,
The dots under its hand are knocked around.
Too much sound, no steady ground,
Hair gone wild, we cant think.
The discombobulation not nothing.
But everything.
All at once, only once, cant see a nonse
Because the wind blows fast.

But when the wind is still, the sea tranquil,
The noise level low with no where to go.
You can see a bird flying wild, pity him while you stay mild.
You can feel the song, you heard yesterday.
But in a different light because there's nothing on today.
All of this set in motion.
Due to no motion and wind commotion.
Everything is easier
When the wind doesn't blow fast

But when the wind doesn't blow fast,
Everything stays a hault.
Nothing can change and nothing moves on.
All will stay a hault.
And the speed of the wind the fault.