Updated: Nov 15, 2020
I tilt my face into the eye of this bold and angry tempest
I look for my moral tale in the storm
the rain.. engineering my words
My end is yet unknown, as yet
flowing stagnant in the squall
I'll write to the sound of my soul twisting round
in this apex
of a life.. I can't recall
*as I write this.. we under a tornado warning in my area. Another twist to this unknown quarantine sentience.
The gods of fate are not appeased.. by the people who put themselves before their humanity.
I fear the greed and transcript of this president.. will write us into our early graves