Keeper

The storm brings itself

and whatever stands in the way will feel the rain fall

I’ve given a few promises out on occasion and one thing remains constant,

whether the hurricane causes floods or rips lives apart,

nothing stays for long

I’ve been wondering lately if there’s a difference between a wolf under a full moon and a storm on the horizon

and that doesn’t need to make sense to you for you to understand

that howls fill the air for a lot of reasons

I can’t help but notice that I’m not changing, life goes and people say and do all manner of things, sunshine or rain and night or day and work or play they all exist as they

and I am not

there’s two types of people,

Or maybe there’s only one type and I’m just not a part of the equation

Grey clouds don’t change the sun, they just get in the way of my eyes

I’ve given more than a few promises out, and I try as I’m able to fulfill them with my efforts but somehow I can’t seem to get to the point,

I start saying something and the words twist into some rambling story about memory and perspective

The point is, the point should be,

I’ve given promises,

And I swear on nothing at all and everything that is sacred to those who hear my promises

I mean to keep my promises

I see the weather coming before the rain starts falling, I feel the pressure change in my knees and shoulders long before the temperature drops

I know the hurricane from the inside, I exist in the wild force of nature that brings destruction to what man has built, I see from the silent calm in the center as the gale flings earth and sky around me,

I recognize myself in the howl of death, a wolf shouting a warning and calling for home, a beast wreaking havoc on its prey

And the hurricane takes my simple message, again, and veers off course,

Scientists say they can predict the path of a storm but all they can do in reality is offer a guess, a likelihood of possible outcomes

I’ve given promises out, with my whole mind and heart behind them

I’ve handed my promises to those I hold most dear,

A pound of sunlight to hold,

A box of light to have

but the storm doesn’t care nor ask when it might be

a good time to come through

I’ve given my promises

and I’m starting to wonder

if a promise is any different from a hurricane

or if they can be kept

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