Petite Poetry

The Storm

As the thunder rolls, there is no more room for fear,

When your very heart beats to the steady thrum,

All that lives in you is that sound, the Power of the Storm.

As the lightning courses through your veins, there is no more room for emotion,

When that searing light burns away all of the impurities you carry,

All that you feel is the fiery heat, the Cleansing of the Storm.

As the wind blows, there is no more room for questions,

When the wind grabs your hair and whips at the burdens on your shoulders,

All that you carry is the feather-weight of air, the Freedom of the Storm.

As the rain falls, all is washed away,

When the rain touches your face and sinks into your heart,

All that can be, is the Purity of the Storm.

5-20-06