There are days
when all is in confusion
swirling everywhere,
grey, cloudy, foggy
lightning strikes
the ridges high
above the valleys
artillery fire
from the universe.

Where are my re-inforcements?

What is this?

Will it ever end?

But it is true
as night falls
and storms howl
and piece by piece
I fall apart,
become my fear,
become dissolved,
experience counts.

It doesn't stay
that way.

Eventually,
it stops;
eventually,
it changes.

What changes?

Everything.

Where the black clouds churned,
there will be
endless fields of royal blue.

Where once the hurricanes tore
at the twisted, leafless bushes
there will be pretty meadows,
flowers, yellow, pink.

Where once I lay
curled up in terror,
I'll rise and smile
as I behold
the land.