My open window bears a gaping hole,
Welcoming and whining the sounds of my soul,
A tasteful mesh of stormy delight,
In a moment so blissfully lonesome tonight.  

Whirls of wind that plow through the trees,
Rain drops pouring and ******* wherever it may please,
Slight brisk drafts of air cooling me at ease,
In this hot, oven-like bedroom, while I cough and sneeze.

Alarm clock sets for the dawn of tomorrow,
I lay here filled with bouts of sorrow,
How this beat of peace is simply a borrow,
Due to this I whimper, whine, and willfully wallow.

The openness of my window, this gaping frame,
The darkness of my bedroom, delightfully same,
Provides sense of solitude in this world, without blame,
I complain not a lick that this is the name of my game.

I have been at sea in a hurricane,
A tempest if you will,
Unimaginable force piling salt water
Into huge forms that surge and crash,
Collapse and reform,
A never ending assault,

At sea the serried ranks
Of mountainous water
Come in succession,
Over and over and over,
Crashing and crushing
With seeming unending maelevolance,

But every storm gives way to calm
And every sea will settle,
And that is where I am right now,
Rocked by still lumpy post-storm waves,
And I will no more challenge the sea's power,
But respect it and indeed

You

It was Sunday afternoon, and the time was moving steadily.  
My room is a solemn dusk as the skyline would summon a perfect storm. All I could hear was my blood, rapidly gushing, in a body that is a vessel of momentary waves; and I was idling, holding a ***** cup. Can I still even keep my coffee warm in my freezing hands? Forlorn by the sunlight, torn by a whimsical love.

And yet, I still keep you,
as I search for you on the shelves
as I look for you at the other side of the door.

This room is full of calamity, isn't it?

𝘞𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘩
I sigh as I breathe again,
Finally, I finally
Made it out.
Made it through.
The storm’s behind me
And even if
I see another one brew
I know
I 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 what I can do.
That I can do
Everything.

The sun shone down,
Red from smoke in the sky,
Yellow from dust hung in the air.

Then the storm came.

The sky went grey,
The trees blew bent,
Torrents beat the ground into mud.

Then the storm passed,

And the sun shone down
From a wind-cleared blue sky
Through air rinsed clean by the rain.

Since you've been gone,
I have been slowly rebuilding myself.
A garden devastated by tornado
will soon grow the most beautiful flowers.