Electrical Storm

Muscles relax and goosebumps rise
While a slow rhythm takes over.
It’s enough to make you sink back
And let the world spin its weary ways.
Lightning chills throw sparks up your spine
As this dance progresses,
As this tempo rises.
It’s a feeling worth holding
For a million years.
Catching the wind in a net.
Holding a sound in your hands.
No wonder the feeling always departs.
Its pointlessness is measured
By the aftermath of the storm.
How do we turn the ropes of commitment
Into ribbons of sublime contentment?


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Filed under poem, poetry

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