I watch the storm leave

And think

That the beginning was once

Formed

in conforming religiously

to ideals

that prosper

never stealing

the idea of a world

that soon became new

and my posture accuses

my diety

for considering

this storm was never

meant to be born

deep down

I realize

In all creation

The recreation

For God comes

With freshness

And a clean slate

To resume

In new form


Posted by in Poetry