Writers on the storm,
we’re just
writers on the storm.
             Sturm und drang,
            Drang und sturm;
Storm and stress,
Stress and storm:
We’re just writers
on the run,
writers
on the storm.
Some fully fleshed,
others not yet born.
Like actors out of work,
whose footsteps echo across
the empty stage; or
that dog that buried
his favourite bone,
and then
couldn’t find it later.
Living in our memories,
our mind is a place,
rather like the house
where we were born.
            Just writers.
           Only writers.
           Mere writers.
Pilgrims, prophets, psychics.
Waiting for a respite;
watching the stormy skies,
willing our thoughts to life,
writing out the storm;
we’re just
writers on the storm.