Dry Storm

can i stand in the rain, waiting to get dry

can i stop feeling the cold, wet earth,
as it soaks my bones

can i remember good times, while the storm of bodies
washes lives away

can i keep still in this cold, while dreaming of a warm cup of tea
in trembling hands

can i sleep while these random words
close every open sentence

can i think of thoughts at this time
while they are fighting on their own

can i build a dam of perseverance
around kindness and songs of love

can i compare black with white
when the dry storm appoaching from the edge keeps reminding me
they are grey