Thursday, November 18, 2010

How The Wind Doth Blow

I dreamt about tornados again.

However, unlike the times at night that I vividly saw the dark mass of angry wind coming towards me when my life was so chaotic ten years ago, this swirling accumulation of black debris was blocked in levels - monstrous and roaring. And, as always before, my gripping, groping panic turned my feet into wings, and I gathered those who, and that which, are dear to me - and I fled to safety.

Yes, my life is a pandemonium of both detriment and delight, and I feel as though I am, once again, clutching, with every cell in my body, the frayed ends of the whip.

This time the air is buffeting me, trying mightily to knock me off my feet. I bend, sometimes nearly to the ground, but have not yet broken, and stare the roiling monster back. Deterred, the midnight coil deperately spawns its brood and, in multiplicity, they each pummel those who are standing around me as well.

I know that not all will withstand the onslaught, and will be brutalized with intensity so severe that they may be irrevocably damaged. Or not.

But I am calm in the knowledge that I will survive.

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