POEM: Timely Tempest?


Savage winds hit like a ramming shoulder.
Pelting rains sting like sand-blast on pink skin.
Dipping ships drop from sight of their beholders.
Soft sounds compile into a raucous din.

Nothing stands still; everything is moving —
Sound and Fury signifying Calm’s death.
Minds conflate the confused and the confusing.
Mouths gasp open but they can’t suck a breath.

Angry gods find newly pious converts.
Sinners sin like they’ll not get one more chance.
While disaster plays the consummate flirt,
dunking sailors, but pulling them back to dance.

Every soul knows each storm must – in time – end.
But one can’t know whether time is one’s friend.

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