Thursday, November 30, 2017

The Roar

My feet are planted firmly onto stone
I hear a roar
Strands of hair mar my view
As the whirlwind tears around me.

I stand in the dark
I stand on the edge
And far below...
The roar.

If I took two steps, I would fly
I would fly into the roar
My body, battered by the winds
Would fly into the dark.

These are not tears
For my eyes are wide with admiration
I see the connection.  I see the duality.
It rains.

There is a new sound now
My soul reflexively calls to it
I feel as if it is from my chest
The rumble.

I cry out into the dark
The whirlwind tears this, too
My voice is whipped into the axis
No one is the wiser.

I feel the heaving of the earth.

There is no guilt here
There is no uncertainty here
There is no pity here
They are too small.

There is agony here
A mixture of grief and woe,
Bitterness and spite, but also pride
They revel in their glory.

I dream to be ethereal
To be absorbed into their discord
Only so that my soul may experience their intensity
I hold my breath.

My arms are outflung as if to embrace them
I wish to be deemed worthy by their judgment
For I am surely a part of them
But was lost.

The rumble roars
The roar rumbles
Their essence whips around me
With excitement, I feel faint.

I covet the emotion.

If I took two steps, I would fly
Risking all I have
My body, battered by the winds
Would fly into the dark.

There is no guilt here
There is no uncertainty here
There is no pity here
I am too small.

I call to the dark
I stand on the edge
And far below...
The roar.