Ailill
Reflections
Clear as a mirror
at dawn reflecting
a rising sun.
Early morning breeze
ripples across being
awakening to storm clouds
gathering upon the horizon.
Wind picks up speed
whipping white caps
swirling to motion.
Rhythms increase with the fever
of a tabla drummer
throbbing to rhapsodic rapture
sending waves clashing,
trespassing different
modes of manifestation.
Sky darkens
pensive moods
shift tones
to murky blue.
Internal restlessness increases
with the surging of the tempest.
Long sighs melt to
raspy grasping breaths.
In frustration
the blistering brew
of bubbling blood
flares forth the froth
of frenzied flame.
Steaming sizzle.
Sky cracks
echoed by the blast
of thunder claps.
Cathartic release.
Teardrops stream
from heavens above
wind whisks
the storm clouds on.
Arisen
the turbulence is gone
yet restlessness
lingers on,
drifting to
ripples.
Silence stills
to a shimmer
of clouds strolling by.
Again
being becomes
an image of the sun.
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