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Hurricane
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Return A violent cataclysm of
what allows me to live
threatens to rend my languid flesh
in a landslide of irony.
The wind, so silent, so pure
calling with forgotten names
of loves Ive never met
and could not dare dream of.
Tress bend to its almighty power
yet it is as soft as a kittens purr
as she sits in the lap of
contentment and watches this
ambivalent world drift by.
Foolish men brave its clutches
wishing to understand why
the destrution of their lives
was brought about by
what can never be seen,
like the musis that lives within me.
Take in a bountiful lungful
as if it will be your last
for one day the protective layer
will be fated for the destruction
that allowed it to survivie
in the first place.
