Who ever learnt to capture a storm?
The contours and flashes,
The streaks and creases
Of a storm and blitz?
Who ever knew
The words of the tornado?
The whelming of the wind?
Or the flares of the gale?

Only one knows
The caress and tends
Of the whelms of torrents
Never know the words
Nor have the edges
Other than the feelings
The deep, sprued emotions
Of despair and distress.

Hope is strangled.
Dreams are killed.
Life has halted.
Optimism has faded.
Sleep has abandoned.
Love is suppressed.
Adulthood has reigned.
In a posthumous world
Of my head-
Tones, disembodied.
Voices, unrecognised.
Whispers, unreconciled.
Bombard and surround
For the hopes to remain
Throttled and strangled.