Apocalypse of living

   This is a haibun for the first Monday of each month, a short story with haiku to follow. I like doing these. You might want to read others' submissions over at http://dversepoets.com/2016/02/01/haibun-monday-6/ where Gabriela has presented several photos to choose from to base our haibuns on.

Torrential rainstorms slap the earth. Thunder clouds fine tune their instruments: blaring tubas, cymbals crashing, rolling drums. Orchestral chords rise and fall; string instruments echo melancholia. We see an extended dimension of rain mirrored in the skyscraper's broad gigantic window of a wall. It shimmers with the reflection of wet pavement and street lights, providing a vivid light show.

Nowhere to cling, forlorn gulls seek protection, as do we when a calm sea becomes a loud roar, a call to awaken from a stupor. Our travels in and out of fear are like gusts of wind spent. We rebuke the storms, but move quickly to fiercely fight for retrieval of a spirit breached. The weather forecast is uncertain.

Holding onto ropes of hopes for smooth sailing again, we curse the unplanned, unpredictable and movable war zone. We battle raging storms within us again and again. Life is Topsy-turvy, and as the weather changes, we compose and rewrite the original score. 

The musical storm changes - The Overture of The War of 1812 into an orchid soft Hawaiian love song. Tides obey the pull from the moon. For a time, we hear a concerto to waltz to, when clear blue skies are reflected from the huge  video screen. Each time the game of weather changes, we nery miss a beat. Like a game of pickup sticks we hone our response. Perseverance reigns as, on the enormous monitor, we watch the show play out. 

Our spirit innate
leads us with courage again 
to sing with the birds