Why is the wind?

For the 29th day of Poems in April, the prompt is Asking Questions: 'quite simply, write a poem consisting only of questions. If you want to take it to the next level, why not write your own answer to the question(s) in the form of a response to your own questions?'

This emerged from somewhere in the Unconscious. No, I don't know what it means. I 'heard' it as two voices, the first female, the second male.

Why is the wind?

Why is the wind singing sadly

even though there is light in the sky?

Will you accompany me

along this path by the river? 

Or are you too afraid?

How far do you think we must go

in the descending darkness,

before we stop hearing that wind?

And what will be there when we arrive?

                      ************

I hope to find the face of God

when I come to the end of darkness;

I hope to hear the voice of God,

mightier by far than any wind.

Of course I am afraid. But still

I will walk with you by this river,

holding your hand all the way.

The song you hear is your own,

borne bravely in fading light.