Only the storms matter,

the ones that violate my calm.

​I suffer the absence of their

menacing embrace, venerable

tempests challenging my

arrogance—a dose of epiphany

to gauge the veracity of my

ever-shifting reality.

Early dawn dissolves my

repose, ​supplanted by pranic

reflections bathed in vermillion

theorems—contemplations amid

the deepest whispers of solace.

​​In this sway of solitude I find my

home. I'm better off dancing alone.

In the present tense.