The gust of wind, so strong it takes your breath away

The foul play of heavy rain, flooding the garden of your heart, wilting any vein well rooted

The darkness of the sky, setting a mood of disparity

The thunder, blocking the sweet melodies of good thought,

Finally the lightning, putting arrest the entire body, to be left weak and numb

The epitome of hopelessness, the tempest we face

Yet have courage. The tempest is always temporary.

wake me
               shake me
out of this febrile trance
furtively pilfering my
heart's ancient treasure
once guarded
by comforting spirits
of warm hopes and
beliefs held beyond reason

never questioned
by the minds tribunal
the jurors seated
in the cranial court
knowing eyes silenced
by misguided faith's rhetoric

never minding
the persuasive muzzle
often ignoring serpent's
retractable tongue
always turning from
the dark corridors
light banished
by modern-day pharisees

cloaked in mantles of treason
patronizingly diluting
what can only remain pure
painted with pious platitudes

away
         far away
i must sail from this folly
an orphan of mystical doubt
the frost and cold tempest I feel

cautious sensibilities
a tenuous guide
through these gray
realms I traverse
                      
trembling hands
grasp transient hopes
striving to shape
deeper meaning

disciplining lazy
traditional beliefs
that hang on like
phosphorescent
spiders in the dusty
lofty
rafters of memory

deceptive iconic silhouettes
faded       de-spiritualized
superimposed on a
human-made landscape
a beautiful picture
gold frame and all!

absence of religious
pop-culture faith
eclipses peace
i shudder at the prospect
of this purge
preparing for burial
what must die
the end of an age
burned in effigy

a raging wilderness
I now pass through
I stumble by many
a familiar and
unfamiliar fane
longing to be clothed
with a mantle of peace
                    
a vulnerable yet
strong spirit I guard
let not trivialised faith be
my misleading guide

and if it is all meaningless
alas! it may be
still I must forge
ahead to the sea
ever mindful that rivers
return to where
they have been
separated at birth

i often hear roaring waves
crashing and gentler waves
lapping on shore
but a body of water
is not always the Sea.