'Still in The Storm'
I see a tethered balloon in The Storm.
A vengeful Sky threatens,
To lash shredding hale,
That rips through thinning skin.
A barely noticed “pop!”,
Lost in the anger that still roils,
A rage that is brewed, broiled,
And bone deep.
Yet, whilst the skin drifts lifelessly away,
What is left is an essence.
That which gave life, gave form,
Remains untouched by The Storm.
Still it whirls and hurls
Great cataclysm at the sea of balloons below.
Still the terror and grief dances
Them a-round.
Still, in the eye,
The 'I' focuses.
I sees untethered balloons in The Storm;
Being, being blown toward a new Ground.