Do you know the language of the wind? How it sings with the morning birds? Or when it begins to storm, a solemn, harsh raging breath is released? I assume you do not, for wind reading has ceased from human literacy. I am the only remaining Wind Whisperer. I spent my youthful years studying the wind. It’s twirling shapes look like images of words. The speed of the wind many times emphasizes the wind’s mood. It’s a lonely craft; for the wind only has I to talk to. Did you know the wind is the most angered right now? I read it in the swift, rough twirls in the sky. _Anger. Rage. Punishment. _ The wind hates the toxic, suffocating toxins released from human technologies. More so often, I’ve heard the rants of the wind, and all I can ever do is offer words of wisdom and a listening ear. “_They have destroyed our breath!”_ The wind tells me each and everyday. “_They have taken our precious gift and turned it rotten!” _ Thunderstorms with furious winds threaten society, yet no one but me can understand the threats of the wind. I’ll have you know, the wind will destroy us one day. Soon our homes will be blown away, quite like how the wind’s home has been destroyed. Calming the wind is very hard, for sometimes it cannot hear my small voice over its strong, relentless tone. I am the only Wind Whisperer, and my only hope is that the wind and humans can coexist peacefully. No more should we destroy each other. And one last thing to ponder, next time you feel alone, remember the wind. It’s always listening, and constantly wishing for another soul to speak to.