Metephors of nature in how I felt at the time. |
In tempest winds watching the trees move With the swinging of my mortal moods. stand waiting for it to blow me over to move me in some way, just move me some how, pick me up, throw me, carry me away. pushing me over, lay there waiting. watching tree branches sway, and clouds swiftly pass by. Branches swaying, clouds swiftly passing us by. the day goes on forever The lightest rain stings my face. craving your pain. smiling with the slightest pleasure. The wind and rain with it brings a chill known. It’s as familiar as waking morning upon morning without feeling. The eerie chill that causes my body to yet again shudder, as though death has brushed by so near. The dead haunt me and the living cause me fear. wishing the tempest would take me that she would let me fly with her to another place, far away, where tornados, hurricanes, winds only devastation known, to live, be alive. could let all this fury, anger and hurt go. Perhaps and only then rising to the heavens to be that star, to shine, then just be ready to die... But the branches whisper, “Only those that have open hearts could achieve such dreams as yours.” And laying back on the earth, continue to cry. "heart, I know..." Even the waves of the sea they must be happier, for they are the water. just having cold earth, shall always have so, buried there to die. crying to hear tempest winds, and think fiery stars, this luminous moon, waves of the sea, rain fall from the sky, And here the slave of earth, cold clay and turn to ash. Swing your branches tree, For only tempest wind, my sweet zephyr, Could bring you such beauty. |