I woke
wondering
if the world was ending
I huddled in bed
listening
to the back door rattling on it's hinges
watching
the eerie black claws of a tree branch's shadow
dance
to a jumpy
off-skew rhythm
Lightning snapped
too many negative image photographs of my bedroom
I wandered the house
looking
for destruction
I marvelled
that four walls and a roof
create a pocket of safety
in the center of violent passion
This morning
the world is a strange loveliness
like a fantastic reality
like a gift
like sun on glass
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