Weather

Your thoughts are just weather that happens to you.
And you’re just whatever they’re happening to.
It may seem to you that the storm wants you dead,
but the storm wanting anything’s all in your head.

The wind doesn’t blow just to knock down the tree,
the rain doesn’t long to return to the sea,
the waves don’t intend to bring vessels to rest;
the driftwood lays smooth on the beach nonetheless.