After the tempest dies,
fighting the suction of my dreams,
my passions and furious longings
that will pull me down to death
if they can never be realized–
more accurately, my attachment
to these things, to living fully in love.
When finally it subsides
back to the cave it came from,
I am left with a stunning peace,
sitting at a stoplight it washes through me,
suddenly content to feel this cold air,
see this bright snow,
watch this indigo ocean as it moves.
I will not get what I crave
and yet to be happy,
to give and serve without strings,
laugh and play in my empty void,
find a common ground with everyone I see.
If growth is best had through hardship
then this field is rich.