You are the Tempest,Riding along the winds of the hurricane,
A sweeping force of nature,
Anarchy,
A rebellion,
A pandemonium never captured.
There are more fingers on these hands,
Than those that you have spoken.
And for those sheer words,
Gladly, I lay my being as a token.
Though try as I may,
I still contradict my own words.
The very thoughts.
The memories that course through my veins.
Effortlessly taunting what I can’t be.
Because everything I want to reach,
Is well within sight,
But out of mind.
Though you stand before me,
The Tempest seeking from a mere shrub.
What more could I do?
I sit and wait, no doubt.
You are the Tempest,
Riding along the breeze of the cyclone,
A graceful vigor of temperament,
Mayhem,
An uprising,A turmoil never restrained.
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