Monique
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Tempest Revisited
🕑 Added 2021-03-18 23:55:53 +0000 UTCTempest Revisited
I refuse to crouch and cower
Beneath a dark, shrouded truth
Beneath a bad, harrowing moon
Before a cloaked, sinister sun.
I will tear, furiously,
Those delusory robes
From her deceitful modesty,
And bathe
In the nudity of her rain.
I will dance
In the faithfull blows of veracity.
I will not be crippled
While there is all this infinite,
Fathomless highway
Pandering so eagerly underfoot;
I will crawl.
While these mountains do stand
In the starkness of their dignity,
I will climb.
While the sea,
In its immeasurable depths
Of silent servitude
Does curtesy to the moon,
Plummeting her frustrations
Gloriously, unto the shore,
I will canter.
No I will not
Seek shelter.
For I am Demeter’s child,
And I belong to this earth.
I am the caller of thunder,
Carrier of water.
I am the channel of wind
Into the belly of vital fire.
I will wait for the sun to rise,
And race her
To where she sleeps again.
I am the nurturer,
And I will make yield.
For I am the child
Of Dionysus,
That ecstatic conductor
In the tragic, ominous orchestra
Of these unruly elements.
Static sending tremors
From each astute hair on my skin
Into deep waves,
Riveting their geometry
Into the desert floor;
Who sends up bolts
In a desperate, wanton scream
To be wetted
By the tongue of the divine,
To be enveloped in frost or flames.
These waves echo;
Deep into canyons and winding valleys,
Who dare all valiant forces of nature
To enter with compass and certainty.
Waves, that bellow in octaves
Too loud and low to be perceived
By the feeble ear
Of man,
Reaching all the way down
To the ocean floor.
Yes, I am the conjurer
Of primordial words
Of primitive winds.
I will caper
To the tantric song of thunder
Drunken, by the dreaming delirium
Of cavernous evening.
I will not be dizzied
By the unforgiving density
Of a looming fog.
For I am soothed
By its multifaceted
Diamonds of moisture
Against taut skin.
Extra dimensional lenses
Boasting kaleidoscopic clarity.
Yes, I am the riddle of nature
Owning all of my irony.
I am my own meteor master,
Tethered intimately
To the cycles of being
But never fixed
To one man’s temporal harbor.
I will not vacillate, irresolute
In the intensity of now.
Rather, shall you
Beware of me:
I am the tempest.
-mmd, 2017.
Photos by Photosensualis, 2016
