Thunder-rise

After the nights, a week, a month—sometimes longer—

I flirt with despairs with loneliness and questions.

It happens. It’s part of the deal.

I need to stop, start over, cut out the bull and put my ear to the ground again.

But after all this time I know that I

must only ride out the nonsense, embrace the nothingness, hug it tight

As the other half of meaning.

The only way around it is through it.

For just as quickly, despite the trivia and side trips,

A dawn will burst up like thunder,

The noisier the better.

I aim my face in a new day, and see the road ahead again.