Storms & Silk Elephants

Jan 1st, 2011. 3:17 AM

It is new years night, I am lying on my back - naked, wrapped in wool blankets, staring upwards out of a skylight. Surrounded by the rushing serenade of thunderstorms; watching sheets of rain weaving themselves through the blackness.
The camper windows are pulled wide open, allowing cool gusts of rain to come inside.. wet drops keep landing on my face and chest.. like the mist from a waterfall against my warm skin.
Through the skylight, it is black for a few minutes.. with only the roar of the rain outside.. then I see flashes of lightning as they tear through the clouds above. I am quietly in awe. There is no sound other than the storm.
Raging.
I am feeling raindrops on my hands, and its as if the water is washing away the tiny lines on my fingertips which form my identity - I have no identity tonight.. I have no roles to fill.. I have no poems to recite.. I am becoming like the night outside, blackness - without definition.
I am watching her lips as she whispers, "I want you Andrew Tipton." - it as if a pride of lions just roared my name.

Here, I am becoming him.
Here, I am him already.
Liberty. To be nothing, or to be anything.


There are silk elephants dancing over my head..


It is good to be alive tonight.


Andrew Tipton