Storms

Whirling always seems forever.

In the storm,

Tossed about,

Pelted and soaked and battered,

It always feels like the storm will never end.

No matter how many storms I ride to the end,

No matter how long I wait,

Or fight,

The storm always reaches past the limit of my patience

So that

This storm,

This one,

The one of the present,

This is the one,

The unending storm.

Then,

It ends.

I recover.

I rebuild.

I rest.

When I fight the storm

I end up stronger than I was.

When I surrender to the wind and rain

I end up damaged.

If I’m stronger I push ahead

And move forward.

If I’m damaged I try frantically to just get back to zero

Before the next one.

There is always another storm,

But, there is always an ending as well.

Whirling never lasts forever.

Advertisements
Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s