In the Waiting

In the waiting
There is a storm
Louder than the guttural cries
A desperation that cannot be formed by lies
In the seeking
There is a fire
Consuming all in wanton pursuit
Lack of air or water could not dilute
In the finding
There is a strike
Lighting from the tempest gale
Fire that needs not fuel to prevail
In the having
There is a river
Flowing with such placid ease
It cannot be dammed by snow, rocks, or leaves

For the river and the storm are identically perspicacious
Insatiably authentic, incurably persistent, infallibly tenacious

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Photo by Mario Álvarez on Unsplash