Metaphorical Musings: To Be In Control?

The thing about rainbows:

They vanish.

And then

Rain shrouded in clouds

Reappears

Once again,

Reminding us how very fickle

The weather:

Tornadoes.......

To breezes as light as

A feather.

So how does one translate

The language of

Rain,

The whisper of snowflakes,

The wild

Hurricane,

The belch of

The earthquake,

The breath of

The breeze?

Just what is the message

Inherent

In these?

I used to think

Sunlight

Kept storm clouds at bay,

At least for a minute,

An hour,

A day....

Enough time, at least,

To assess

Strategy

When inclement weather

Might

Someday

Find

Me.

But now?

I'm not certain.

The heavens,

They rage

As I find a raindrop

On every new page.

As fast as I write them

They soon

Melt

Away

While shadows of

Storm clouds

Scowl,

Threatening

Each

Day.

As "history repeats itself"

Time and

Again,

A gaze out the window

Reminds me of

When

A sliver of glass

Much like this one,

I guess,

Stood sentry while

Outside:

No solace.

No rest.

An angry wind

Tortured

The air

With its blasts,

And spewed forth,

"Serenity? It never lasts."

And then- right on cue-

Heavy pellets

Of ice

Proceeded to pound out

Their savage advice.

And now

That same window's

Turned into

A mirror,

Reflecting,

Of course,

Every

Thing

That I fear.

"How can I control this?"

I rail to the gods.

The wind whispers

"Amen."

So

Those are my odds.

Resignedly,

I turn away

Once again,

Resolving

To never look backwards.

And then

Reflected in less than

The blink of an eye,

A flurry of fluffy white

Snowflakes

Drifts by.

Impossible!

(Isn't it?)

How can this be?

The weather has changed,

Asking

Nothing

Of me.

And not only that,

It's a beautiful sight.

Perhaps I could take just

A peek

At the

White.

And that's when I realize-

Just as I turn-

The lesson that I had

Neglected

To learn:

The weather is

Only

A thing we should fear

If we have forgotten

To muffle

The mirror.