Nothing comes to mind

Nothing comes to mind

A hollowed silence

Flows through empty halls

Perception a door closed

To any difference of opinion

The wind might have

With the prevailing drift

Of the higher clouds

Cirrus ice crystals

Weighted in favour

Of falling

Over the ocean

But subject to the whim

Of a change in pressure

Points of a different compass

No direction ever fixed

Beyond the far horizon

Where the god

Of the unasked

Lies in wait for the unwary

Traveller

Searching for a reason

To survive

Without a safe route home

When it is undone

All bridges crossed

Are left in flames

No amount of rain

Can douse the blaze

Of rage that rises

When barometers fall

Depression comes in stages

Isobars are more meaningful

Than points on a map

They are connected elements

But it takes more than

Atomic weight to be the same

For synapses to fire

In sequence,

Chain reactions can be the

Beginning of something new

If the significance

Of each individual explosion

Is grasped,

The why of it

Might make more sense