Raging winds and rain.
A wild ride through ever disintegrating times.
Can we assimilate where we've been?
Ancient footfalls inexorably emerging into
battering rams, explosions, firey projectiles,
grief, despair, immolation, utter destruction.
Can we feel the pull into the maelstrom,
powers ripping our being into basic components,
the essence of nature?
Perhaps there was/is/will be
a time of peaceful reflection,
hoped for abundance,
shared joy and laughter,
moving us higher through an upward spiral
of feeling so good, feeling so free, feeling so loved.
Perhaps it is here, around an unseen corner,
ever available, to those who can perceive,
who can let go of misperception and it's
Perhaps the only solace is in stolen moments,
the sweet taste of summer wine,
the innocent joy of uncomplicated affection,
the pure sensuality of passionate dance.
Perhaps these will tell us,
if and when we stop to listen,
will lead us to the promised land.