There are times when nothing soothes
a rumbling soul, but dreams of bare nature.
I think of a sharp wind, and the
various forces clashing with each other.

The gloaming, low sun watches the sky
as black clouds gather in a pow-wow,
for making a heavy statement.
The air is energized with storm-anticipation.

Beams of bright-light streak through snatches
of sky-alley-ways in billowing stacks,
glancing rays off mounting-edges of waves.
They kiss each other secretly, quickly.

I want to skip and sing across the sand,
casting long shadows over the rocks,
celebrating the coming surge of undulant rain.
So, Alive! I truly feel so alive. Washed clean.

Perfect-happiness in a perfect-power-play
of a Higher Power. I, the observer.
Anything can have whatever meaning
I’ve chosen to assign to it.

It only has to make sense to me at the time.
Me – a near-desperate to control something in
my chaos-Universe. How long could I fight
back the tidal currents from rolling over me?

Steps of grief detail a time-span from unbearable,
exalted jargon – obscure sentences into breathing,
poignant memories. Remember what you choose to.
And, if Love above all survives, so will you.