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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1451899
by Fyn
Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1451899
sometimes the music changes, or how we hear it, does.

Thoughts swirl—
eddies of dust and debris tornado
then disappear
into clouds of regret.

Lightning flashes illumine
myriad moments
when fear thundered,
when hailstone fists pummeled.

But then
Rainbows ribboned across sunlit skies
and I splashed in muddy puddles
wiping washed feet on spring-green grasses.

Mobius memories circle, entwine, spiral
into new growth, ivy-ed twists shooting forth,
climbing to new heights
unburdened by the weighted terrors—

Free now
to hear
and dance
to the music of the storm.
© Copyright 2008 Fyn (fyndorian at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1451899