My Hidden Song.

Weaving poetry with the
sway of my body,
I am driven by the rage of the black storm
that propels itself forward
to feed the thirst of the tide

Using the brushstroke
of my finger tips
to wipe away stories
that used to be written
with blood and ink
I invoke Poseidon's wave
to say goodbye to legends cast into stone
by the unrelenting erosion of
the grief-stricken hunger
of the weeping wind

Motion moving form
I surrender to the storm
that violently unleashes my tethered soul
to perform
my hidden song.