The Storm

Very philosophical, I believe inspired by my finishing The Brothers Karamazov.

While quiet raindrops struggle to enthrall,
My conscience flickers far into the night --
The tempest beckons.  Dare I heed its call?

Water poured on tiny creatures all;
Young minds awaken, daring to take flight --
While quiet raindrops struggle to enthrall.

Who, slinking, slith'ring, through the trees they crawl,
Clear pools of water shimmer to invite --
The tempest beckons.  Dare I heed its call?

So now as trees with rain grow skyward, tall,
Mature they ponder: why to stay the fight --
While quiet raindrops struggle to enthrall.

Life's pleasures swiftly swirling 'round befall;
As age encroaches, sip with much delight --
The tempest beckons.  Dare I heed its call?

The tired, weary ones beneath the pall --
Do treasures drown and crumble in the light --
While quiet raindrops struggle to enthrall,
The tempest beckons.  Heed its call.  Dare I?