This heavenly floor I so vividly adore
Once in while
Turns a bark towards me.
The skies turn their eyes in a gray demise
Once in a while
And it frightens me.
As that distance narrows
Between the seen and the midst
I often ponder what I should do.
Should I sleep through the storm,
Or weather it's wrath?
Hefty choices, but few.
The former sounds so serene;
Luck would seek and I might receive
Because storms don't intrude on dreams,
But if I drift into slumber
As this storm burrows under
The chassis of my morale...
Would the loss of evolution
Turn into taste of dissolution?
A taste bitter, rotten, and foul.
I suppose a storm is better seen
Than one that is dreamt,
As I'd rather witness my life's event.
A storm without rains,
Carrying sorrows and pains.
A storm without floods,
Gushing emotional mud.
A storm without thunder,
Shaking me from under.
A storm without weather,
Just me and my tether.
I can hear the thunder rumbling
And see the clouds colliding,
And I won't shade my eyes
From that gray demise.
That thundering ascent is my life's event,
And a storm that doesn't kill,
Is a storm that will invent.
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