Illusory

(i)

Pillowy white clouds,

fluffy stuff

that beds down

in the azure,

a pleasure,

I am told,

but,

feeling old,

the lies in my eyes

seek darker skies,

I wonder why?

 

(ii)

A rumble in the distance,

I look to the horizon

as if I can discern

with my eyes,

what my ears have learned.

The turn in the weather

appears imagined,

as I gaze beyond

the cerulean yonder,

pondering the beating

tom-tom-like auger.

Chagrined,

disappointed as the sound

Dissipates.

Is there no chance

the crowded clouds

will participate

in my rain dance?

 

(iii)

Closer.

Louder.

I notice

fine powder.

No. Wait,

It is wet,

and better yet…

I find

people looking,

like I’m out of my mind

as I skip,

eyes full of happy tears,

the sky descends

and the sun

disappears.

 

(iv)

White fades to grey,

blue – gone. Near black,

the vengeance of heaven,

warring gods, attack.

Roaring, pouring,

the tempest sings on and on,

call this a storm?

Bring it on!

A sudden madness,

gladness, glee,

this weather, ever

magic to me.

 

(v)

But the storm soon flees,

light returns to the day,

my rage, near release,

rinsed away,

my grief, that disease,

frightens away

thoughts thought deceased,

joy, kept at bay.

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