We are never stuck in the storm;
we are simply parked in it.
As the streams build in the valleys of
our clothes, creating urban waterfalls
that feed the wombs beneath our feet,
there seems to be a deepening peace.
I just love the rain.
I love it when each little shard comes together
and creates a sea of wandering.
Its swells soothing me, wooing me to a place beyond
the conscious. A place beyond the harrowing of distrust.
The crushing darkness is not a psychosis,
but a form of being, if only for a moment.
The storm stops when we realize that our ocean
was just a drop.
And so we chase that storm,
vomiting up our deepest issues while waiting
for the rain to come and wash it away.
