and then the calm . . .

and then the calm . . .

it is raining . . .
and i feel the soft gentle drops
tapping . . .
awakening my passions
from the silence.
i sit and watch
my needings
my wantonness
my longings
my urgings
become the collective of my definition.
i look into my “i”
and i see the eye of my Soul
become the Eye of the Storm
as i begin to quake,
as the winds of change,
the winds of my fury
beat against the walls
of who i thought i was.
they strip the leaves
from my Tree . . . Life
exposing my naked vanities
that i may see who i truly am
in the reflections of my beingness,
in my convexing nothingness,
and my allness.
my inner child smiles as
the closet doors are splintered
and sucked into the void
of my abysmal delusionary world
that i have created
to avoid Storms such as this

and then the calm

my inner child glows
and becomes the Sun
unto it’s Self
the Sun of the Son of the Sun



(c) 14 October 2010 : William S. Peters, Sr.