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Last week I made a comment that both Whitman and Rumi reminded me of wind. I thought I'd attach a poem by Rumi to give a sense of what I'm talking about for anyone who hasn't had the chance to read his poetry.

• We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee;
  we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.

   We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat:
  our victory and defeat is from thee, O thou whose qualities are comely!

   Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls,
  that we should remain in being beside thee?

   We and our existences are really non-existence;
  thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable.

   We all are lions, but lions on a banner:
  because of the wind they are rushing onward from moment to moment.

   Their onward rush is visible, and the wind is unseen:
  may that which is unseen not fail from us!

   Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift;
  our whole existence is from thy bringing into being.

This was written some time between 599-607. While in Arabic, his poetry follows a lyrical meter (or so I've read, as I can't read medival Arabic, or modern day Arabic, for that mater) but translated into English, it takes the shape of free verse.