Lightning Rod

Oh, I am with you like the endless sky is with the round receptive mother earth: envelop you, know every low and high. We sandwich in between us death and birth. The moisture from your steamy seas, all warm, builds clouds in me that billow dark and light; that rumble, tumble, pile up storm on storm, till crackling, flashing bolts slash through the night. How can the fragile feeler of your love survive these fatal forces from above? It's just a slender spire topped with a rod. But when my lightning strikes you, and you drain my thunder dry - in your arms I remain, emptier than space, more full than god. San Jose August 26, 1998