Walking The Dog In a Stormy Summer Night

Stop! It said.
Stop wanting, now, it yelled.
I kept walking. The clouds were low.
STOP WANTING! It shouted.

Thunder rumbled, roaring as hell.
Lightning struck nearby.
So near, I could smell the burning.
Stop wanting! It cried, yet once again.

You had your share, it said.
Rain started to pour.
You’ve seen enough. It whispered.
Lightning struck. Booom.
You have lived your life, it yelled.

I was completely wet now, freezing.
Not afraid, but certain.
If I stop wanting, I said, with anger,
I will be dead.

Strike me, lighting of destiny.
Rip me apart.
End this existence,
if your plan is already fulfilled.

If I stop dreaming, and my soul stopped
longing for life, screaming, ah so loudly,
in the storm of this dreadful night
to find a cure to the burn in my heart.

This being should be over,
this body destroyed,
this mind annihilated,
this soul recombined.

No God and no voice
in that stormy cloud
could make me surrender
just because of – time?

Maybe the dreams will return
once the storm passes by
and I will be happy again
completed, with you, my friend.

Yet, it shouts, that evil voice,
in this fierce thunder storm –
yet is the magical purpose of this life
to be revealed to the knowing.

You are getting closer, though, I admit.
Your rough winds are whipping my face.
Your splashing drops are the sharp cutting needles
of all those days lived and gone by.

Days of useless time,
spent with worthless waiting
of things not to come,
now washing away in beautiful rhythmical waves.

Just as thoughts come in waves,
made out of tears
of millions of souls

Home again,
I lay aside my watery clothes,
wondering how nicely
tears and thunderstorms blend.

(July 2010)

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