The storm. The storm. The raging wind
that has torn apart all in its path.
Towns and empires were pulled asunder,
carried away into nothingness.
All is left as ruins and wreckage,
in the path of the fiercest storm.
Never-ending plunder of pathways,
making way for curious new things.
So how have I come to reside here,
in the heart of the storm?
there is no desolation here.
Nothing but the sorrowful wind.
I have witnessed the finest things,
as they crumble into ash and dirt.
But behind the storm, survivors,
are carefully rebuilding anew.
Hurricane of change; this living thing
that brings ruin, and wreckage, and death,
has passed hither and thither across us,
and in its wake, new things grow.