Mind meadows
Swirling on the horizon,
Escaped storm.

Spirits fall
lightning's fire, thin and vain.
On it’s face.

Closing eyes
waits blood noise in galleries
echoes sound
with rumbles
gliding on my corneas,
sound in eyes.

Volcanoes
Silent with their evil done,
Just a sigh,
As sipping
The wine the storm has begun,
Then it goes.

Incense cloud
wraps the corners of the sky
Senses blend
The storm ends
With far flashes dies lightly,
Not as loud.

T’was too near,
before and after the storm
still too near.