storms and winds and wall-less rooms

the Storms always come on Winds that are ragged ghosts with undone shirtails, clutching never-quite-complete appointment books
and growing like tumors, searching for purchase

always, in all-ways, the psychic weather systems
rage and wreak through weak spots and strong before they abate,
leaving me to re-perceive what is always Here, waiting:

rooms without walls,
tiers without floors or ceilings,
skies without horizons
silence before silence

sub ek! ~ consuming time and space like palate cleansers;
birthing them over and over again for Lila's sake

until even the moments between the Yugas
collapse under their own wait
and the Ouroboros immanences itself
into 6 billion new Storms and the ever pending,
eventual remembrance …

of

what,

simply,

Is