Pounding of a storm

Pounding hard is the storm. First cold to warm to
burning. Slowly draining soul of power. No longer
can even the emotions take control.

Pounding deep down through soul to my spirit is this
storm. Roaring, raging fiery words. Screaming inside
of my head. Killing any thought I may currently carry.

Placing hands to massage the temples. Cotton to stop
throbbing in ears. Soon the throat and jaw tighten.
Sleep I must take because there is no other
alternative at this point.

Still my stomach growls in need. Growing irritable over
no food entering.

Ah soft, quiet steps I must take. Don't even want to
hear the sounds of tiptoeing. All too much for ears,
the pounding of the storm inside me. If only, such
thought of flying through a room. The wind is more
gentle on senses then my own feet.

Empty the soul of the flashes of color and total
blackouts. Binding the head and blinding the eyes to
a whole new level. Oh the mind says, "shh don't talk.
Don't even whisper." Oh how I just want the pounding
of the storm to cease.

Slowly the neck and shoulders tense up. Wow! Not
even the scalding hot waterfall releases the mess. Oh
to even smile aches and stirs the mind to a pychodelic
phase.

Entering mouth are two round pillows I should have
taken in the start of everything yet none were
available. Now just grateful for Jehovah getting me
home in one piece.

Still all around me the sight of a pure beauty rests
untouched for all the eyes to feast upon come first
morning breath. Yet current status I would not even
be able to bear weight of the brightness exhibited
from such beauty.

I hope in the next few hours of cooling darkness I
sleep. Absorbed in warmth and full of contentment.
So when eyes open next the grays sparkle at the views
beheld.

So we shall see come later in day.