Where does the storm begin, and purity end?
In the heart or indeed, the actions which stir
a body to gather and begin erasing the past
in the name of a future surge of life-giving force.

Pressure, building upon pressure to be, to move--
angrily, forcefully, while yielding the self effortlessly
to forces pre-existing, never-ending, while always destroying
life under it's tyrannical, resurrectional fury.

What is the fate awaiting strong and weak alike?
Courageously surpassing, or succumbng to,
assault from the torrent of assimilation
conspiring to bind, and blind those in it's midst.

Solace: liberates, captivates and inebriates the soul
while selfishly guarding life, protecting the heart,
denying intrusion, inclusion and infusion from the
future self, shaded briefly by the passing I of the storm.

Swirling supended within this infinite maelstrom of
existence lies a sea of calm; a virginal breath of tranquility.
Pausing, reflecting and focusing new energy into the dynamic
flow towards an unknown earthly conclusion.