I am not the storm.
I am the freshly-soaked earth.
I am the vivid petals of the quenched flowers.
I am the hazy sunlight glowing between the clouds.
I am the sound of the birds as they return to sing once more.
I am the gentle breeze caressing each and every tree.
I am the cracked flags drying in the afternoon sun.
I am the umbrella discarded in the porch.
I am not the storm.
When the rain stops,
I come alive.

I saw things
nobody knows
I know things
you don't show
You know
my fascination
You know your
my inspiration
I can explain
why you do what you do
I can't explain
why I know you
But I know
what lies in your soul
I don't really know you but somehow
I know you in whole

There is a storm
gathering in
            my womb
soon to explode
into a thousand
crimson stars
lighting up
my veins with fire
and unraveling
deep-set,
          knotted scars
and the gentle rage
outside my window
presses on, inside my head
as I lie here,
my thoughts twisted
in a cozy, yet empty bed
my thoughts unfurl
in misty haze
           curl into
                      smoky
                 rouge
as nightsky thunder rolls
into creamed saxophone
                          deluge
the snare drum beats
in firelight
ripple sheets
in silky flutter
as my fingers strum
my womanly instruments
into loamy, primal butter
my voice in quiet utterance
as the heavens open
           to heavy rains
                    that liquefy
                           my desert
                 hydrate my
           bare-soul caves
so I electrify my echoes
into fruited, crystal drips
frothing up my
cherry wine
upon these moistened,
hungry lips

Even through all that I done was failing you O God.
Yet you never had given up on me nor others here Lord.
Even though we never did deserve your Faithfulness.
The Sinning that I and others has done out of weakness.
Even though you reveal to us that we have your Strength.
But instead of us accepting your Faithfulness here O Lord.
We instead cling to our Sorrow, Struggles, and our Pain.
O How I wish that you shall come back here soon God.
For all of these Struggles, Depression , and Hurt holds me prison.
I know it probably has others caught up in it slimy hands too.
So all that any of us can do is keep running this here race too.
Praying that in the very end your Grace shall be applied too.
Revealing that in your eyes, we were deemed worthy to be your children.
So that each of us shall go to Heaven , and be able to worship you.
Our Amazing , Lovable, Glorious, Wonderful , Savior and God.