Storm II

You are the storm
Beating at my window -
Electricity fragments across an aerial ceiling,
A white vein pulsing on a deep overhead

Deep blue
Deep purples, green and grey
Not black
But heavy, pregnant, full

You are the poignancy of the light
That separates the darks from the consumption
- Of darks

You are the restlessness that I know in my core,
What is stirred and given reign
When turmoil encroaches from horizons
And the still of anticipation is tangible,

The childishness that re-visits me
Like the buzz of something sour
That has grown from my center
And loiters under my skin
To make me lighthearted again,

When I am grounded by awe and wonder
And my own insignificance,

When I stand at the steps
Between artificial and nature
And I'm not sure where I belong,

- That is all you.

There is an unpredictable wind
And it runs rampant, freely
Across Oklahoma flatness,

Directions are impulsive
But the strength and the sweep is rhythmic,
Abstract - but somehow, still rhythmic

Giants, float above me paradoxically
Then collide and reverberate deeply,

Some unworldly strength
Emanates both from red dirt
And carpet floors,
Until it courses through me,
Engulfs me entirely, and
- That too, is you.

Quiet prevails,
The winds are tamed and retreat,
And I know the maternal glow of a sun
To comfort its beaten earth,
- Still, that is you.

Relentlessly, you storm.