There is form. And there is force.
Lightning blazes the sky with frightening might
Which bursts and dissipates in arteries of light
How it animates the living,
With its thundering displays!
How it penetrates us with awe,
And fills darkness with stories
And that is what we call the Force.

There is form. And there is force.
Gushes of wind brush the once austere surface
Which rises and resonates in hills that interlace
How it fuels our imagination
With its frenetic waltz!
How hypnotic its furious motion
And the flow of its assaults
And that is what we call the Force.

There is form. And there is force.
Mountains spring from seas and glide down the coast
Which is where we have crawled and now thrive the most
How it shapes the current world
With us barely noticing!
How volatile all our endeavors
And at the mercy of its whim.
And that is what we call the Force.

Her eyes glow with fireflies

As we sit on the porch of that abandoned cabin,

The still lake shines with stars

That drift through the air around us

And adorn the skies above.



There is darkness to the East, where the city used to be,

Oddly gentle, filled with pinpricks of light

That look down upon those of us who survived

As we dream once again of reaching for them.



Leaning forward, her hair slips past her knees,

Tickling the wooden step beneath her

And drawing my absent hand through the strands.

We're fine now, truly,

Alive and well with the homegrown tomatoes and fresh-baked bread

Filling us up more than the morning coffee of rush hour ever did.