All Storms Lull, Sooner or Later

All Storms Lull, Sooner or Later

The mirror calmly reflects forms within the frame
Of blue heaven above and vivid earth around, but
raging currents whirl restlessly behind the surface.
A maelstrom soon rises from the gloomy depths
and tears the tranquility to shreds.

Crushed are the reflecting ponds of the soul
by a turmoil waging storms behind the eyelids.
Waves lashes up and foaming white horses
beat themselves unconscious on the retina.

Tiredly hope sinks deeper down in darkening water,
wet wings are weighting heavily on every move, and
salvation seems to whisper one last, soft goodbye.
The mind floods, bursting the damns, and water
escapes by tumbling through the iris.

The storm passes leaving two devastated
lakes behind but as the wind lulls they mend.
The shattered pieces all float back into place
as long as there only is an ounce of faith.

Fear not the storm, nor the fury of the water
Because all storms, even the wildest, do lull.

Copyright © 2007