It rains.
As the clouds cry, 
their tears are peacefully carried away.
To the rivers, to the oceans, to the sea.
Reaching unity, their rightful destiny, of pure and honest acceptance. 

Raindrops of emotion.
Of love, happiness, and nostalgia
Of life at its full. Impossible to ask more.
In them, reflected three of the pillars of nature’s existence,
Sunshine, Fire and Wind.

Three forces that keep me upright
that hold me in place
helping me find who I am
what I am to do
what I am to love.

Sunshine.
She radiates light, warmth and energy.
The energy of life, 
light of wisdom, truth and guidance
Hope 
rainbows of unrelenting positivity.

Fire.
In her flames, she carries not only passion, boldness, and character,
but warmth, and light of sound wisdom and advice.
In which I see inspiring and mesmerising beauty.

Wind.
She moves, touches and inspires. 
Fills you with love, happiness, and meaning.
Knowing exactly how she must blow to keep you upright, 
to hold and support.
Her power transcends limits of human imagination.

In the tears that I cry, 
raindrops of emotion,
I see the reflection of your essence,
three of the forces
that hold me in place
helping me find who I am.

Tears carried away to the oceans, rivers and sea.
Where I feel whole.
Having reached unity, a sense of pure and honest acceptance.

Where I am in peace with myself and the world.
 

Alone.
I am an immobile stone.
Desperation hits as I
attempt to stop an unstoppable 
storm.

That never ends
that I can't heal

Caused by the
evil workings of a violent world.

The human race has provoked it
as it ravages the beautiful lands
that once existed
in a place now unknown

A world now unknown.

Desperate
we try to find ourselves
fighting against a force that thrusts us
downward.

A force that feeds on
our everlasting blindness.
Ill, we damage the
world around us.

Storms arise
front
back
inside us.

What power do I have against
this mass destruction?

Desperate I work to
fight against 
the blindness
imposed consequence of
this world’s violence

Desperate 
I fight against the 
attack that those
unwilling have 
forced onto
this crying world.

I pick up the dust.
Dust that once made up
the unwavering stone
that fought against the
impossible power
of injustice.

Pieces back together
I look at myself.

Alone
An immobile stone.
I fight against
the unstoppable storm
the force that
feeds on our blindness
the world’s violence.

I have no power against this
mass destruction.

I am dust,
broken by the impossible
power of injustice.

A crying world.

My hope is crushed
I am powerless.
But I will never give up.
 

It pierces.
The pain
The guilt
the pressure.

Like the throbbing
of my head.

The words.

The gentle breeze does care for me,
it really does. 
But ever so fragile as the smallest leaf
i fall 
defeated
to the words
the words of pain
its pain
not mine
but mine

that subtle movement
is a hurricane
that leaf
its cause

it makes no sense
nothing does
but both the gentle breeze
and the leaf
know.

its mine. 
like the throbbing in my head.