The wind-swept river

lashed about by pelting rain

turns to metaphor

 Immortal combat 

of gods and philosophies 

rages throughout time 

Somehow the blues can

lift your spirit even as

the words bring you down  

The armadillo

inquisitive but timid 

stood stock-still and stared 

You whirl around like 

ascetic Sufis searching 

for arcane secrets 

Talk talk talk but say

nothing and fill the world with 

useless noise and strife 

Darkness seeps and creeps

in through the tiniest cracks 

wrought from daily wear