The gods of fate and design
have yet to recognize me
Me, a step-child to such universal powers
Yet, within my reach
I play the azure skies,
finger the depth of the heavens
as an astute accomplished
composer and conductor of
exquisite music
Simply, I command
with each crescendo the oblong clouds
to grow and darken
Mastering the hailstones
with a steady rhythm of foreboding
Such spellbinding tempo
depends on my mood
Zeus stands in awe
as the thunder rolls! Fortissimo!
My agile hands mold the swell
of black angry clouds
moaning and giving birth
to the perfect storm
In the distance,
something like.. like
a faint gallop of horses can be heard
stirring the Earth into a frenzy
Pounding, pounding
Hailstones upon major keys
Sirens wail like a child mastering
the violin:
disjointed, jarring, painful, and grating
Such is my wrath, scorned
swollen with anger
Ahhh... but for a time
only a time
Let Father recognize the softer side
Let Neptune stand at the gates
and declare my prowess, my beauty
Adagio...
A zephyr breeze I conjure,
brushing the Earth with gossamer strokes
A Brahm's lullaby, coaxing,
luring life to revel in its beauty,
its promise, its hope
Nature awaits my cadenza;
impregnating Spring's cycle
with sexual energy
as I blow the gentle breeze
across Earth's maddening crowd
The procreation dance has begun
Should this audience of gods
await my canon?
Shall they demand I churn the seas
in herculean boastfulness?
What more must I do
to claim my right beside their reign?
Let the seas roar! Colossale
Tie the mast and anchor the bow
Cling to the oars, my mortals!
Prostrate to my mercy
Let man howl their prayers
to deaf gods
who cannot contain the fugue
of my will
Oh, dear Fathers, mighty Zeus,
Neptune...
do you not, also, see that upon
my brisque boreas of providence
another god's angels
take flight to rescue souls?
Do you not, also, see my breath
scale the ivory keys of promise
whisking away humanity's tears?
Surely my beauty will not vanish
into nothingness!
Let me claim my rightful place
among the women of your world
No longer shall I be the step-child
crushed beneath your feet;
accursed with simply being
the wind
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Author Notes
I have been a little under the weather, so this has been a slow process. I know I am too late for potlatch, but this was inpired by Michaelcahill. Michael, thank you for your support and encouragement.
thank you coxen for Gulf of Mexico Sunset
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