My Storm

Some storms destroy, pillage the land,
Some storms bring life to the thirsty
Dusty plains in so many ways,
Some storms bury who we are
Through their falling ice and snow,
Some storms blow away what
Is not needed anymore among us,
Those storms, pale in my sight,
To what grows and spreads within,
A storm not of rain, cloud, or sand,
Not of wind, fire, or ice,
A storm, raw in its intensity,
My storm engulfs everything sometimes,
Like a three hundred mile rock,
Smashing into this planet, destruction,
In this tempest I hold to my faith,
That is my only hope.

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About Daniel Silas

www.danielsilas.com
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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