People talk about Tornado Alley,

The part of the U.S where I live.
They act like tornadoes touch down every week in May through October,
Like storms go through every other week.
Like everyone’s not scared and they’re always calm.

The truth is,
Tornado Alley’s not like that.

Tornado Alley is worrying
When a tornado touches down only five miles from your house,
Your family’s in the basement,
Wondering if everything’s all right,
And if your house will be damaged.

Tornado Alley is praying a storm will pass,
The ever-looming threat of a supercell,
Swirling clouds above your roof,
The sky a nasty green and purple.

Tornado Alley is taking everything you have for granted,
Then being scared when it’s threatened.

Tornado Alley is knowing tornadoes exist,
But being thankful that you’re not in San Francisco,
Or Hawaii, Florida, the coasts.

Tornado Alley is flat plains and wide open spaces,
Not being afraid of a storm,
But of what lurks when the beginning is over.

Biophilia is described as
a love of life and
the living world
the affinity of human beings  
for other life forms.  

I suppose it could mean
loving everything you can
the sunlight on your face  
insects buzzing in the air
the dusks and dawns
of a hundred summer nights.  

It could mean your love
for your pet fish
for your dog
for the cat that you don't own
but comes up to you every day
and lets you pet it
purring.

Biophilia could mean  
a wish for better
a longing for more
the want for every
single life form to be happy.  

It could mean  
caring for a flower you planted
in the spring with dew holding down  
a million tiny clovers
dotting the lawn.

Everything is grey,
The sunrise is so muted,
Drowning everything,
It cannot be disputed,
Everything is grey.

Everything is grey,
No happiness, no strife,
My hands, my thoughts,
My dreams, my life,
Everything is grey.

I watch from a place far away,
A silent, lonely visitor,
I don't like to stay,
Because, because, because,
Everything is grey.

Helios prepared his golden steeds,  
Each huffing and pawing at the waves of Oceanus,  
Alectrona raised her arms, and Eos woke from her slumber.  

The chariot was lashed to his stallions,  
And slowly, the sun god rose.  

Eos spread her fingers across the sky,  
And as he rose, a fiery flare bringing day,  
Threads of pink illuminated the clouds as purple ribbons split the darkness.  

Phanes lent Helios light as he rose on the mountain in the sky,  
Orange twined its way through fields of blue,  
A blazing scythe that cut away everything but itself.  

Clouds that had formed by Zeus were gathered like birds,  
And as Helios passed, they lit from within with scarlet joy,  
And the laughter of Tethys echoed as she made the white fleece of the heavens.  

Farther and farther he climbed the mountain in the sky,  
And the heavens turned a bright blue,  
The orange scythe that had cut away the onyx and navy fields  
Faded away to return the next day.

When at last day had truly begun,  
And Hemera had truly awakened,  
There was only a purple horizon,  
By that mountain in the sky.

I'm drifting on an endless sea,
All I hear is the rolling waves,
As I drift so quietly,
My hope begins to break.

I'm drifting in this endless sea,
All I see is eternal blue-green,
As I find my heart is silent,
It begins to shatter.

I'm drifting with this endless sea,
All I know is hunger and thirst,
As my old radio crackles,
The last bit of power fades.

I'm drifting on an endless sea,
All I feel is the power of the tide,
As my raft is thrown about,
My body sinks down.

I'm sinking in an endless sea,
All I know is that I'm drowning,
As my breath leaves in a cloud of bubbles,
I begin to die.

I'm floating in this endless sea,
All I feel is fear,
As my hands close around water,
Death is very near.

I'm swimming through this endless sea,
All I see is saltwater,
As my arms desperately stroke,
My lungs taste the air.

I'm treading this endless sea,
All I see is the hull of a ship,
As my arms wave at the crew,
They notice me there.

I'm out of the infinite sea,
All I know is that I'm free,
As a blanket wraps around my shoulders,
I know that it's all right.

The gazelle sits in quiet repose,  
In its flighty heart, it knows,  
There is no predator nearby,  
And it scans the sky with an eagle's eye.  

In the grass, fifty feet away,  
The lion waits in the heat of the day,
It stalks the gazelle with the silent tread of a ghost,  
As it patrols on its outpost.  

The gazelle tenses quickly, it knows there's something there,  
It stands in the grass, looking everywhere.  
There! Near the tree! The tip of an ear,  
It starts to bound away, the lion very near.  

The lion starts as the gazelle runs,  
It licks its lips in anticipation of great fun,  
The chase is on! The lion gains,  
Its tawny coat covered in mud stains.  

It takes only a moment, but the gazelle turns,  
The lion skids to the side and the soft ground churns,  
It leaps after the gazelle, the tail of which is seen,  
The lion jumps on the gazelle's back, their tussle is lost in the green-

A moment later, the lion jumps up, the gazelle lying dead,  
The former grabs the broken body and begins to walk ahead,  
The vultures shrilly cry,  
The gazelle had been killed in only a blink of an eye.

The echo of me went around and about,  
The ghost of my words, the ghost of my thoughts,
She wandered around and sowed the seeds of doubt.

She was transparent, as thin as a sheet,  
When she took a breath, there was no heartbeat,  
Her hair hung limply, her limbs were sticks,  
But her words could hit like a ton of bricks.