I am the stillness, absence,

calm creating need

want making you bleed

void, nothing, suffering.

I am the ocean,

by which you measure grandness

and levy your sadness

In the wake of my storm.

You the doe

I the hunter,

Weary and worn,

I am the tornado

you the fields of corn

blowing your horn

no one hears in my wake.

I am the flood

and you the fractured dam

that you jam with your hands

as I press my way in.

You were the mark

I the ready arrow

Taut, tense, bow.

I am the lightning

and you the fractured bark

ready for the spark

to burst you into flames.

I am the violent quake

and you the fragile earth

giving width berth

to the chaos that remains.

You are the heart,

I am the snare,

Beware.