You remind me of me
I can feel all the hate surface
the pain that I buried
(it has since grown roots and leaves)
I don't wish to face it
yet I must
so I try
to open windows
show you the thunder and lightning
and you run the other way
but now it rains in your bedroom
and you lay cold on the couch
stare at the ceiling
blame me for ever opening a window
Like the weight of the roof was held together
by its broken glass

You push me away
but you remind me of me
and I cannot stop hating
the love I carry for you (and me)
the parallels are drawn

I have known this
The desire to leave everything
and run far away
but where can you run to
when the ceiling is a thunderstorm
and it rains outside your window
(you can't)

you sleep in puddles of your losses
and I simply watch
wishing you didn't remind me of me
hoping you will learn to let the sun in
repair the roof in days to come
and somehow I will not hate
the part of me
that loves you

A love like yours
Has got me weeping at unknown doors
To be heard,
To be mourned,
To be something,
Under this sky above.

I had to pray
Thunderstorms in my way
When you would never stay
A price too big you asked me to pay.

And I can't undo the candles
The lightning and the thunders
And the passion I poured into you,
You truly never had a clue
All I did was for you.

Twisting, tingling, spinning water
Rushing past to **** the old man's daughter

Glaring, entrancing, burning fire
Scorching the skin of priest o' sire

Twirling, whirling, spinning air
Leaving man's house behind with only a scare

Crushing, rumbling, shaking earthquake
That is how 782 families had to wake

The screams from the thunder storm
Were heard all throughout town
And that kind woman went to take her children inside
When a lightning strike came crashing down

I had always been so sure
That nothing like that could happen to me
Until one day while on a sandy beach
I saw a tsunami coming from the sea

lightening appears,
followed by the roll of thunder.
it crashes boldly.
colliding between the drops of rain.
There is no fear. standing between us two.
my soul reaching out for yours.
There is shelter in my arms.
the thunder roars.
demanding us not to veer away.
long as we have each other, fear does not exist.
no matter how far in the universe the lightening
comes from.
It finds us.
We’ve discovered the gift of fire.
Dancing from my lips to yours.
no longer trembling in the cold.
in the dark of night. the thunder rumbles.
like the crash of pots and pans hitting the floor.
no matter how hard the rain pours.
I’ll grip and hold you tight.
through the flash of lightning.
It strikes. Paralyzing me in place.
you've struck my soul.
Zigzagging your way to my heart.
the thunder roars on, with every flash.
this fire rages from our arc.
Your soul entwined with mine.

(Is there an emotion for mystical? I suppose it would be to be mystified. Perhaps awe is the word I am looking for.  I was in awe at the sight of him! I was beyond mystified!)

It started in the Yellow Wastelands.  Where life went to die.  As life dies there, they become a part of the Yellow Wasteland adding to his spread and growth becoming a sort of crystalline lattice.  All go willingly to the crystalline whisper. The whisper in recent theory emanates from the shining yellow crystals that grow among the Yellow Wasteland like blue bonnets in the Texas spring.  Once the Whisper is heard the victim willingly partakes in what we call The March. The March is a mindless saunter to The Yellow Wasteland where upon arrival they lay in the yellow dirt and slowly begin crystalizing. We have tried stopping The March. But have been unsuccessful for many years.  During the state of the march the victim gains a strange, extraordinary ability to control others as they see fit. If one or a group of people, try and prevent the march they will be controlled by the whisper to put the victim back on track.  The final equation that we cannot solve is why one hears the whisper.  There seems to be no pattern whatsoever.

On this day my daughter heard the whisper. We walked with her for hours on end.  My wife and son followed shortly behind whilst I walked beside her talking about memories and music.  My son then caught up and started to play his lute. He played song after song and sang beautiful lyrics that they wrote together.  My wife would then catch up to fix our daughters hair and clean her face as we walked and walked toward The Yellow Wasteland.  There were times where we would walk all together in a line and pray and pray.  

Over the Wolf's crossing trail was a hill. The hill was now called.
" The Last Ascend."    The Yellow Wasteland can be seen below.  We started the ascend up the last ascend.  Tears flooded all our eyes as we were powerless to stop The March.

Rolling with the hunches
Safety in a tiger's eye
Has become a lucid scent, a possible unction
To the staring hour, we remember for denial...?

Saviors to break for it...
Sated pleas of untoward necessity...
Themselves, in the grasp of order and wit...
Speed of patience, to a wealth we knew should, politely...

The thunder we dote, was a marvel...?
Sent to merit for the ultimatum baring
Brief as loves boredom can be, the smile is actual
Where sincerity is from ear to ear, the want of caring

Do you remember me?
Like calling a kiss a sweet lightning
Come from the cloud, we devote to ourselves, see
The question of unity become our only hope, realizing...

A real tooth of repose and hindrance, that knows, you
Ready to chew nothing but the thought, of callous interim
Where we are, the tone of a silent voice to see the rue
Of compliment, are we that we are, a solution to anarchy's whim?

Sweet deliverance
Set to wishes only a courage's mind could blow
Forces and prowess to assure an imagination with seemly chance
Timid as we are, is a truth the only, when in the house to know?

There's a thunderstorm,

lightning above me, rumbling --


deep beneath my feet.

The lightning dances

yellowly on the ridges --


It's an event here.