THE BLOCK OF BLUE
The night is not long...No!
Time crawls on my skin like a lizard,
skips along toward with my ticking pauses
I can count the seconds drifting by on the window of the digital clock,
But there is nil to fill the empty flow of time.
I have read, written my journals, and echoed love songs
Yet the restlessness and anxiety soak in my mirror
take over me on the frantic steps 'round the room.
...And then: the storm comes!
Raindrops slatting splattily upon the surface greeters,
the roof, the leaves, the pavements, the puddles
Their hurrying sounds fill the silent gaps between the changing numbers
: of Time, immovably insistent!
The rough wind raw and raging with the intensity of desperation
beating the branches against each other
Thunders scream and lightnings shatter the firmament
The deadening sounds electrifying in the floating space
The streaks of sudden, jagged swords slash the jet black face of the night
The mesmerizing grandeur of vast, deep, dark and muted sky!
...I stare with fierce anticipation at the inevitable uproars
In the powerful celebration hosting by Mother Nature
Hypnostically awakening under the spell of the wildness
of a March stormy night,
Boredom dissipates...and then I cover my face with shaking fingers
and
weep..!!
