The Winter Storm, Here to Stay

I wrote this poem while the blackout happened in Houston, Texas, on the first night without power, alone in the dark.

Peace.

Peace.

Peace.

We do not understand the meaning of it,

just breath. Our minds race at will with no end in sight. Our souls do not know the true enjoyment of life.

The meaning of life, has been misplaced.

Misunderstood. Mistreated. Misplaced.

We have come forward so much with our technology, our tools, our things,

And yet,

we have gone backwards in our humanity.

Be warned,

we will not receive unlimited chances, be warned.

We do not have unlimited oxygen, be warned, we will not win bonus trees, or water, or fish, or flowers, or butterflies, or rivers, or love, or chocolate, or laughter, or meat, or seeds, or energy,

in the path to become the biggest millionaires.

If we do not stop our unchecked consumption, we will consume ourselves.

I trust the silence in the blackout.

This winter storm, this karmic energy we have called to chide us, it speaks, and gives wisdom for those who will listen.

Truth lies in the stillness.

Disguised as cold air.

Breath.

Breath.

There it is.

by Juliana Philippi

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