Whispering Wind

I speak to you, the wind wafting in
The one so paradoxical
Cooling me down
Yet you watch the city burn
With rage, hate and envy
Carrying the whispers of the devil
Hearing the unheard
And passing it as lies
Or half-truths; even worse
And there you still blow
In the midst of blazes 
Meant to blow out
But the spread maniacally
You bring with you, the cool mist
A cloak of complacency
In the guise of soft coolness
And fill the sky with coal dark clouds
Sometimes to disperse ashes
Or to bring enraged rain
Diffusing the fog, yet seldom leading to it
As we stand, watching, helpless
With mere windows and curtains
To hide and save
Still we hear the wind
Carrying its own voice
Making the city burn

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And yeah, I still don’t know where that came from. Guess this is what reading symbolism and poetry by Sylvia Plath does to you :S

I would love to know your interpretations in the comments.

Have a nice day!!