And so, it seems, nothing has changed
Pensive outside a new home, by night
The sound is limited and the air is strangely familiar
Here I am, with thoughts unbalanced, an altered medium
But my mind is still the same
It’s as if the sky tonight reflects what my mind has always been
And what it always will be
A dark, dense, old-growth forest
Roots so bound, the trees, established and anxious
Try and fail to grow beyond their forging;
Beautiful, but tortured, starving for water
Ageless, far-reaching, but starving for water
A southern thunderstorm, a welcomed disturbance
The rains came suddenly, falling fast without warning
And the heedless flora yearned for more, begged for more
It was given mindlessly, without question, from the lasciviousness above
Power lines erupting sparks, afflicted transformers;
The night was alight with the brightness of the ageless
And the rains would slow, the water flowed, and the trees could breathe again
Only once again, for the next day arrived, and the cycle began again
And suddenly it was no more
Flora, as if with a sense of self, yearned for more, begged for more
Wilting slowly and forced to implore
The sky which responded only as it does tonight
Silent, sable, beautiful and illuminating; goodnight, --
Clouds would gather, and rather than rain
Would drizzle, making miserable the flora
Who yearned for more, begged for more
El Niño arrived and with him the drought, a painful realization
Like a broken meditation
To know the welcomed disturbance was fleeting
An ephemeral bridge between spring and fall
And only that. That was all.
And so, it seems, nothing has changed.
