She is the stormy weather,
the thunder that splits the sky,
a hymn of shattered glass
cutting through silence, leaving it trembling.
Her breath is the wind’s fury,
fingers curling through the trees,
tearing at the roots of certainty,
shaking every foundation
until nothing feels safe.
She moves like lightning—
brief, blinding,
a flash that etches itself into your soul
before the darkness surges back,
heavy with the promise of her return.
She wears the rain like a crown,
each drop a jewel of rage,
falling in wild, untamed rhythms.
Her laughter swells like hurricanes,
her tears carve rivers into stone.
You cannot shelter from her—
she is the eye, the edge, the aftermath.
Her presence strips you bare,
leaving only the raw, trembling truth
of what you never dared to see.
Yet she is a balm,
cool as the first rain on scorched earth,
a storm that does not destroy
but cleanses, reshapes.
You will find yourself,
reborn, in her wake.
She is the stormy weather,
and to love her
is to stand in the flood,
arms wide open,
daring the waves to come.
reflections of an unquiet mind 
Your outstanding poetic output continues to astonish me.
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Even though it became much less? Thank you Jeff.
I think this is a powerful piece, but in the end, it has to resonate with readers.
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You still write far more than I ever could.
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I think if we had to compare wordcounts, yours would be far above mine 🙂
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Maybe so, however, you are mostly creating original thoughts through your words, whereas I’m mainly describing music others have created.
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With your words, you tickle the reader, make him curious about the music you are describing. That’s an art in itself. And the amount of research that goes into your writing is amazing too.
Don’t sell yourself short, you are a brilliant writer.
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Thank you.
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