Little droplets like rain on my forehead.
A thunder cloud of emotions in the center of my beaten skull.
Each flash of lightning a new thought.
The thunder, a formation of words rushing out of my mouth.
Not as quick as the lightning but rather slowed down so the world can hear;
Regardless of if it listens or not.
It still plants a seed that grows into a tree that blossoms with flowers.
A single strike of light into a flower bud.
Its petals slightly open, showing a peak of what is inevitable.
All from one flash of light; the raw power.
The magnificence of the North mountains that touch the toes of God.
The beauty of the South sunsets that make Lucifer weep with confession.
YOU ARE READING
The Process of
PoetryThis whole book is a poem made up of smaller poems. It's a story of someone that is struggling through life. It's up to you to decipher your own story through this. #7 in haiku July 18, 2018 #1 in enlightenment July 18, 2018 -EasonV (Free verse and...
