Tempest

'Stark in it’s wrath the tempest brews,
along sullen majesty a vessel’s temple.
Breeze of plains winds receiving,
reeling our mills of time.

Transfiguration rages on out,
snapping fire at the melting stump.
The frightened dare not speak,
racked by enlightened fury.

Silent the woman sat,
serene within the unlocked mind,
smiling at tempest unfurled.
Her gaze, steady and clear,
searching for one who speaks with open eyes.'