for

and still the tempest rages.

how do you find the stepping stones when the clouds descend upon you? i fear to lose more than my way. but the words of the wise one, spoken in haste but still quite true sink into my memory. i'm burning it there permanently, with reflection.

the desert seemed endless. the vast stretches of sky only served to give canvas to the burning sunlight. my eyes had grown weary of squinting to see... which seemed pointless anyway. who needs sight while wandering aimlessly in a desert?

i asked for rain. i should have known.

stop to listen, stop to rest, stop to ponder.
when does the race end?
i don't know, but from here i can see no end to the
running
and my wings are wet.

you say you don't understand
my cryptic lines
but you need not read between them.
close your eyes, and count to ten
then remember the time you
stopped. and did nothing else.
then look, and see what
you comprehend.

how about this one?

"to stop, and will the raging winds to cease
and mourn the time of peace
now gone, but never truly known. this
is my need, but the tides come quickly
and the shoreline is falling away
and the time to sail is close."

do you remember now, the eyes by which you see?