the storm of calm

oh, for the storm of calm.

calm is not in the rain

but the space within the around of it.

calm is not the wind of itself 

but the absent force that encircles.

calm's not the interface of raindrop-surface to air

but the elegant way they excuse each other

in a constancy of their bypass

as if surrender is in their dance of execution.

calm is not any surface is in its reception's embrace

but in the integrity of the beings 

as they are the mutuality becoming one.

and then how they are the ever enfolding.

the storm of calm, 

without the radicals of appearance

is yet no breath held back.

yes, there are bends and waves of respect,

offered by trees in their statutory ways,

physicals hustling for motion, 

even as invisible broom-sweeps 

across the wet ground.

every now and then

long gowns of windswept swirls,

visible and auditory

of moisture pleading in a ground-launched,

gravity giving the prayer of flow a life.

but with eyes unimpressed with evidence,

the storm of calm is soothing, 

a must-see by absence's offering.

embraced in the reception

as a story untold

but yet ever in the inner resolute of all

in passage as being . . .