This heavenly floor I so vividly adore
Once in while
Turns a bark towards me.

The skies turn their eyes in a gray demise
Once in a while
And it frightens me.

As that distance narrows
Between the seen and the midst
I often ponder what I should do.

Should I sleep through the storm,
Or weather it's wrath?
Hefty choices, but few.

The former sounds so serene;
Luck would seek and I might receive
Because storms don't intrude on dreams,

But if I drift into slumber
As this storm burrows under
The chassis of my morale...

Would the loss of evolution
Turn into taste of dissolution?
A taste bitter, rotten, and foul.

I suppose a storm is better seen
Than one that is dreamt,
As I'd rather witness my life's event.

A storm without rains,
Carrying sorrows and pains.
A storm without floods,
Gushing emotional mud.
A storm without thunder,
Shaking me from under.
A storm without weather,
Just me and my tether.

I can hear the thunder rumbling
And see the clouds colliding,
And I won't shade my eyes
From that gray demise.

That thundering ascent is my life's event,
And a storm that doesn't kill,
Is a storm that will invent.