Forgive my Tempest Mind[A Confession]

     No matter what I'm writing about, I am always writing it to a woman. Perhaps to the feminine herself. What I love about women is that each one I meet has some subtle thing that makes me feel in love with her, for a moment or a mile. I fall head over heels twice a day, luckily I have begun to master the somersault. Though some send me tumbling endlessly into the troughs of twisting hope. My love is a whirlwind in the desert, seen only by its effect on the things it touches. Sometimes caressing, sometimes uprooting, sometimes shaking structures to their foundation. I wind through the world compelled and sustained by glimpses of light amidst this monolith to the dark. 

     I am light yet my movement is heavy on the world, my heart is empty space. I gorge upon the weather beaten boards of shacks and shake the people of the sun. My name is amen, let it be so. I cry out wildly, my voice echoing against its own ripples upon the fabric of space. 

     Forgive my turbulent heart, I fear if I ceased to thrash against myself I would cease to be at all.