this bang and clatter signalling hard rain
must wake you up and bring you back alert
right to the point at which you would assert
the need for honour and the weight of pain
rise from the desk and not seek to constrain
all of the patterns no longer inert
since what is left must have no time to hurt
for what you seek in heart of storm is gain
no wisdom here since what is seen must die
within the gap that our small time has left
for us to speak with those who want to learn
the tiny truths that peek out of the lie
receive the gains remaining from this theft
still each of us knows what it is to yearn