Incoming gray clouds.
Rain, my chaotic water.
Fast river current.
The flow of my thoughts,
faster than what I can hold.
Am I beyond “me”?
Hissing wind cuts all.
The wind shakes my trees too fast.
Uprooted, damaged.
Too noisy inside.
The internal buzz grows strong.
Numb body. Untamed.
Storm, settle down now!
The Green never really dies.
Flow. Become empty.
Suffering will pass.
Have you ever heard of Change?
You will see his face.