A Place of Rain

The storms swirl like mysteries away from my
Strange new tower of glass inside the monsoon.
The patterns that pushed and overcame me
When I was in it
Now buffet the sides
Like a letter addressed to me with nothing on it.
Its lashing illogic urges me on,
Its sharp hammering scrapes away
That I am still wrong.

But it is only the voice of energy moving through.
What of myself was ever out there?
What have I left behind?
Something that always pushed me aside
To speak
Still makes a sound
Indecipherable.
Yet the words are ones I seem to know:
Patience, hope, love, ego,

Shoo-shoo-kem…