9/8/17
Psycho Thunder
We encounter it as a vision.
A leisurely paradise.
White sands and suntans.
Fresh seafood and frozen drinks.
Redneck music.
A place of no trouble.
Til the trouble brews.
With high pressures.
And moisture.
Kicked up by the hot Atlantic nights.
Near the tropic line.
Through the colorful islands.
To our Florida.
Whizzing wind, psycho thunder.
Twisters and floods, lightening bolts.
The race is on.
Out of there.
The slow get left behind.
Darwin wasn't wrong about everything.
The fittest will survive.
In a general sense.
Some fit will not, some slow will.
Absolutes are rarely true.
Either way, the elements rule the world.
The water, the earth, the air.
Designed to sustain and last.
Gravity, atmosphere, and light.
Set on a circular pattern.
Within a galaxy.
Speeding through unending space.
On our way to places unknown.
Only faith, or delusion, keeps us sane.
A conscious, and rational, obliviousness.
Storms came and went.
And will come and go.
People will be people.
The helpers will help.
The pointers will point.
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