The poem married to this piece:
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MESSES OF THE MIND

A muddled mess I am

A Destructing self beneath the suffering of expectation and duty
But then comes the loudest quiet of them all

The days in late spring

When Elohim sings

The days when thunder roars, cumulus tears pour
In the days of late spring when Elohim sings

This is my favorite quiet, I think
Or At least maybe now one of many

The days when the skies darken and electricity
hangs in the air like the cobwebs of potential energy

The storm is the destruction of what was
With the promise of all that is to come
Is the emotional upheaval of dreams and
the wiping of a slate clean

Oh how I love the days of late spring when
Elohim sings

When, the roar of his chorus sparks awe

When the crispness of rain sodden air
brings memories of winter
into the embrace of a promised summer sun

It is here that thoughts of tomorrow are most quiet