Man’s Tempest
by Odin Roark

Why so much clouded darkness… life without air?

What is this whirlwind of greed and avarice... this resultant famine of principal?

Why so lacking in rapprochement… we?

Like a planetary tempest,
people seed their storms of discontent,
rolling,
inverting,
slamming
sinking
and again erupting
like an ocean tsunami without shores,
its tumultuous waves
without any ebb and tide respite,
void of nature’s innate perfection.

Where drifts this sentient gift of man,
this once surfable floatation above the turmoil ,
this learned avoidance of ill born conflict,
our instinct to survive above the fray?

What is this that would destroy the calm of love?

Beyond the turbulent darkness
resides the ever-seeable light,
a beckoning within
pleading to be understood,
knowing to seek the shore
is a choice that asks we step upon
neutral sands of history’s evolution
walk the lessons learned,
chance even more teachable bruises,
scratches,
brokenness.

For to seek such wisdom
is to renew life as it should be…

one without man-made tempests.