Storm

A storm, metaphorically and real, both overhead,
and while the storm of wind and rain is headed my way, a storm of feelings and words run rampant in my mind.
Sometimes i wonder if one storm could stop the other, or if the storms would combine and block out all thought, all light.

Maybe one storm would light the sky, flashes of lightning playing on the edges of the world, captivating all who could see, the other one might blow away all those captivated, no longer left to be fascinated with such a deadly, beautiful storm as this. Both make my head scream, clear thought but a distant wisp of air, roaring thunder now above and within, surging electricity splitting air, striking thoughts.

But both storms I will have to endure, taking shelter in what small secure places and thoughts i know to be real, something i can feel, and touch.

But I often find myself in doubt, of what is real, of what can truly be trusted. My shelter's my secrete thoughts and feelings turning to but more storm clouds gathering. Light is gone, cold and emptiness fill my body and spirits, and I've run out of places to hide, now, I have to face the storm, and I won't back down,
I may loose, and I may not recover, but the sky will be sunny again, even if i loose all traces of myself,
the world will be bright again,
and the storms will be forever forced to hide from me.