raining down from reigning clouds
comes tears from the earth that can
capsize what I’ve built. With buckets
and brain I beseech the storm to stay.
The thunder fills me up and empties
me back out time and time again.
I realize I am the storm.
I am the deep thunder that echoes
through canyons and the strikes
that light up dead trees. I water
the earth and take it all back day
and day again. A vicous cycle of
tunneling clouds that can sense
insanity; can sense the sane.
A humble realization, to coexist
with something so fluid.