The tempest

 The tempest….



And it hurls along, ravaging through the empty fields…
Bellowing through the murky streets;
Branches howling , windows clanking.
Wild, unfettered and unbridled.
They say we can predict a storm by the calm that prevails.
But what about the one that rages from within..
Or is it the years of silence that moulds it..
The turbulence of emotions and feelings,
Of having felt, having seen and having borne,
A myriad of sufferings, an array of misdoings,
To the point it makes you shallow, but carves a hollow,
A depression so deep, that the tempest follows.
And then it sweeps, unchained and unshackled,
Ravaging through the empty beings.

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