Awaiting Thunder, He Dreams
If all our voices were to meet in the atmosphere
what could the rain achieve?
When we give nothing we have nothing.
Is it enough to listen?
Wisps and heaps, ripples and sheets.
Accumulated, dispersed, fingers
unknotting death’s
grip, steps taken around the flames,
in caution, in delight,
imagining the greatest undoings.
“Awaiting Thunder, He Dreams” was first published in Red River Review, in August 2018.
O at the Edges 
I’m sure if our voices were to meet in the atmosphere we wouldn’t know which voice was heard or either loudest… Like a symphony. 👌
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They’d be caught in the rumbles, no doubt.
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Exactly.
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Imagining the greatest undoings….what is already done can’t be undone.
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And sometimes we don’t realize what we’re doing. Or undoing…
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Yep until it’s already done.
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When we give nothing we have nothing… Hmmm
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I truly believe that we receive more by giving.
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I couldn’t agree more… It’s such a powerful yet ironic truth.
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It took me a long time to learn that lesson.
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Thanks for sharing it!
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You’re very welcome.
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