• I can feel you coming back,
    　　my old nemesis,
    　　you dreadful tempest.

    Labored breaths desperately attempt
    　　to refresh my Being; futile efforts
    　　to cleanse your poison from my air.

    Movements slowed down by your presence
    　　weighing me down, suffocating beneath
    　　your unwavering persistence
    　　as a ghastly force of nature’s indifference.

    I can feel you drawing nearer,
    　　inevitable force of destruction,
    　　I recognize your chaotic return.

    Constructing barriers to ward off your gale
    　　with utter uncertainty of their sufficiency;
    　　but I have weathered you before.

    Shaking hands grasp for something, anything,
    　　to alleviate me from your hellish comeback,
    　　knowing fully well you are inescapable.
    　　I get to know you better with each visit.

    I can feel you here now,
    　　you old dark cloud,
    　　what is your purpose but to invoke misery?

    Understanding the forces of Gaia
    　　do nothing to diminish my disdain
    　　for Her amorality. She culls her parasites,
    　　with my Temple on Her tainted land.

    Why must you stalk me, malevolent storm?
    　　Have I been planted in the wrong location?
    　　Have I angered some unknown gods?

    I can feel you within me,
    　　a hurricane battering inner walls,
    　　an icy downpour weighing heavily.

    Knowing I can never escape you,
    　　remembering the biting cold of your Gehenna.
    　　Unwavering in the protection of my Temple,
    　　confident in the strength of my Sanctuary.

    You reign terror over my Temple, my Sanctuary:
    　　stealing my Body, sewing calamity in my Mind.
    　　Always looming, ever dreadful.

    I know you are my storm,
    　　eternally on the horizon,
    　　biding your time.

    Fearing the unpredictability of your strength each time,
    　　forcing courage that is barely possessed.
    　　Familiar with your pestilential nature.

    You might always plague my Being,
    　　but you are no different
    　　than others of your kind.

    Solely managing to weather your floods
    　　by recognizing your nature:
    　　as toxic as it is habitual.

    My familiar friend: you,
    　　like all of nature’s storms,
    　　will pass.

    And when you pass,
    　　I will
    　　remain
    　　standing.