What Lies Within

What shall it be then, Oh, this tempest in my soul?
Shall it be then all of merriment, or of me the deathly toll?
What shall it be this torrent that would sweep me far away?
Shall it be to my destruction or a peace that lasting stay?

I should think the storm be endless, that it smash me on the beach.
A storm with no containment, no support to which I reach.

A storm such that the tidal strength should break me ending not.
In it’s wake then my destruction, at it’s end I am forgot.

Would I ask then such a tempest, such a wailing, boundless fear…
Ask then for just a mercy that I might shed a single tear?

But nay, I’ll beg it stronger, that it tear me still apart.
What stronger then the storm shall be might harden all my heart.

Give to me your ruin, the worst you have to send.
Destroy the very heart of me, lay to waste all that I’d mend.

Would I beg of it for mercy? On my knees beg then respite?
But no, I’d rather end in torment than I beg a moment slight.

This storm may be but raging, it may gain in all it’s hurt.
It may gain in all it’s fury that it smash my heart to dirt.

But, Oh, I will match this storm in fury that it fear me in the end.
I will reach into the heart of it, it’s very soul I’ll rip and rend.

If it tasks me of destruction, I shall bear to it my name.
I shall show it true destruction, pure of heart and without blame.

Of this tempest raged inside me, I’ll be hard and fear it not,
this storm then never ending is the storm my soul has wrought.

© Copyright, RJ Little 2015

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Photo Credit: © Donna Sanders