Bump, bump
in my skull.
Causing me to slump
while listening to the dull
thump, thump.*
Pressure building in my head,
threatening to break.
these things, I always dread.
This is why it’s called a headache.

Orange, crackling tongues flick,
Trying to find something to lick.
To find something to burn,
to find something to turn
into ashes.
Its heat, creating gashes
in the earth,
causing dearth
in this place,
that was once full of grace,
but is now being blazed,
being razed.

Feel
the raindrops roll down your face,
wrapping you in their liquid embrace.
See
the blinding lightning
the dark clouds, brightening.
Taste
the crisp water pouring from the sky
the rain, leaving nothing dry.
Hear
the roaring thunder,
filling you with wonder.
Know
that after this,
the thirsty earth will return to bliss.

The crushing, crisp, cold air.
Everything covered in a layer of snow.
The snowflakes caught in your hair.
The world shining in a white glow.

The hot, humid sun,
the new freshness of the world.
Winter is done,
flowers, becoming unfurled.

The leaves turning yellow, orange, red,
falling to the ground.
Upcoming winter is to dread.
Leaves, falling all around.

The blazing, burning heat.
The sun, turning the world dry.
The bliss of spring is complete.
The ground, waits for the clouds to cry.

No matter how hard we try
No matter how much we want it
Some stories just don't have a happy ending .

Have you ever stopped to look at the trees?
How they lightly sway in the gentle breeze?
The icicles on their leaves when they freeze?
Standing strong, even in the high seas?
Then, you would wish that we weren't brought to our knees
with such amazing ease.
You would wish to be more like the trees.