The Storm
Rebecca Joyce
Nature is sympathetic after a turbulent storm
Finally there is a peace, a blissful state of serenity.
Other storms will follow- but not""for him
No other storm will ever take itstolf as this one has...
Whittled away. by the worn hands of time,
the man becomes a shadow of f;iimself.
The breath of life at birth and this final breath
blur together- what IS between was life.
Now merely Q skeleton ot the spirit remains,
ready to leave the body Wit,..,h04t permission or approval.
The man lays like -a Jump in his hospital bed,
biding his time with measured goses of useless medication.
How cruel and insensitive tne stoi:m is!
1 watch thewasfingof a near century of a man, seeing living history prepare for transcription to a-page.
Gusty winds,-pouring rams, the storm thunders on... Final gasping noises, clutching his chest for one last breath, the man despairs, submitting to the strength of the storm. Deafening sounds echo through the roomthe moment of passage appears, taunts, lingers, escapes...
All is quiet now, save for a solitary breeze gently blowing through the trees...in the calm, in the aftermath of the storm... in the Storm of Life.
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