Will You Follow?

The wind has chosen me,
born into the heart of the storm,
kissing the rain,
finding truth in the lightning,
waiting for lightning to crop up
into the eyes of others as one by one
they are struck by my birthright: Chaos.

Chosen by birth,
accepted by experience,
made of the tempest flowing through skin;
an eye of the storm is now
calming the rage and the lust,
silencing the hope and joy;
the rebellion is come.

Chosen by the wind,
kissed by the rain,
finding truth in lightning;
this is my legacy,
granted by the sculpter.

When will the lightning strike your eyes?
When will you be chosen,
and by what?
It will happen,
like it or not the passion chooses all.
Will you follow?
Perhaps the dandelions choke your heart,
or the path calls your name,
but will you follow?

I am called nomad, tempest, stormrager,
windson, the lightning sage, truth teller.
I have earned these titles by following;

will you follow?

-mine