The Tempest

Three poems in one. A storm of words, and feelings

I've been told the world's at my fingertips
I feel the grass gently prodding my bare back
I've been told I could do anything, from many lips
The night-time sky, full of twinkling stars, no luster lacked
I've been told that I could make lots of money someday
A calm breeze blows over me, a calm overtakes
The pressure always building, a future, love, the what if's, the what may's
The calm, like outside of a storm
The pressure that drives a man to an early grave
The outside, surrounded by a force much too large for one to know the form
This search for purpose that allows the soul to crave
Pushes the stars from the skies, and the dreams from your mind
The search that pushes the love from your eyes and the spark in your soul
Until nothing is left but the storm