The Empty Storm

The moments that tick in with a determination to keep us on our toes are seldom welcome. We love being like pendulums. Hard times find us peering at the end of the dark tunnel. We sometimes forget to walk at both the times. While we're in the tunnel, and when outside it.

"Everything is fine today. And that...
is our greatest tragedy."

We define energy valleys for ourselves, conjure up     pillows stuffed with well being and lie comfotably in between. That's nature. But that valley gives us a false sense of security, rendering us passive to the prospect of changing our inertia and walk. We continue to believe that we're invar pendulums resistant enough to changing length with rise or fall in temperatures.

Then comes the storm. Potent, carnivorous and rueful.
It uproots our settlement to shreds. But is is worth all this chaos?
Chaos lies within us. Consider ALL the storms raging in the universe. They all have a figment of themselves at all points. The intensities at infinite points within us add up as well. That makes a perfect storm whirling within us. The storm is then, just an image of us.
With one fundamental difference.
A storm is empty. Devoid.
It can pass through you, leaving you stuck and cribbing about the harm it has done. A storm is as harmless as your image. All it does is blow away the monotony of the pendulum. Behold beauty.
Keep walking. Storms shall be.

"I lust for after,
and no disaster can touch..."