The rumbling of the bellowing sky
Can help to greatly and subtly imply
And omen of the future's promise
Not a symbol or a sigil--
Far more powerful, only daunting
Why'd I say
The ocean's hush
Would be the first to beckon
My stored, molding fear
I've never been in hollow lonesome
For the place I know I was conceived within
But don't ever tell me these phobias don't build--
From shame, lost hope, and aging agony...