The storm and the mountain

1.
The storm on the horizon--
black, ominous--
flows in, singing the song of destruction.


You are the storm.
You sing the song.
You destroy.


2.
To create, one must destroy.
To love, one must hurt.
To create a shackle that sweetly binds,
one must break the old shackle,
melt the metal and forge anew.


3.
You're the storm
who destroys and creates,
who makes me cry and laugh,
who washes away my being with winds of ferocity
only to give my being more meaning.


4.
Here I was,
looking at the storm rolling in,
the dark horizon,
the power and beauty,
of destruction and creation,
mesmerized.


When you rolled in,
singing the song of ending and renewal,
I was ready to be absorbed
and be taken by the storm.


5.
Shivering,
I forgot,
while you are a whirlwind of storm and destruction,
I was the immovable mountain who stood in your path,
overwhelming you with my stoic slopes and jagged peaks.


6.
While trembling to the core,
I demand your surrender.
While tempestuous, you comply
with lust for calm in your heart.


I am the mountain
Where you the storm will rest your head
and there will be calm.


And the rains you bring will flow down me,
to create new life in the plains.

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A piece I wrote in the spring, soon after I started writing again. Despite my pen being rusty from non-use at the time, I think this piece turned out ok. As is customary with many of my writings of late, Aura is the muse.