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The storm out my window, the storm in my mind.
My mind is awash in meaningless words,
floating, careening, breathtaking beauty
in the fibers and corners of my mind.
They sit in circles and fly in formations,
winding through the corridors and alleyways,
and they never let up and never let down.
The lightning strikes at the ground outside,
making bright the sky and afire the earth;
the mortals shake to see it fly, trees die,
the world gives way to the chaos of order.
It's perfection in confusion in a second,
leading to the creation of awe and wonder.
And the lightning of the mind strikes again,
lending words and words to never-ending prose,
striking at the heart and soul of the insanity
that drives it out of its cubby into the wild,
exciting the open and puzzling the sane
as the words come tumbling, tumbling, tumbling...
And the writer is never heard of again.
