In Extremes

A poem

Photo by Mukul Wadhwa on Unsplash

I operate in extremes

I am either a raging storm washing away everything in sight or the calm blissful sea blessing your view as you feel the breeze

I am either a glaring flame burning everything to the ground or the silent, frail dead grey ash that remains

I am either boiling hot steam rising fiercely in the air or the frozen hard, cold and dry ice chilling your bones and shaking your teeth

I am either a tornado whirling and uprooting everything in sight or I am a vacuum with no air to breathe dry and choking your throat

I am either a rare diamond shining brightly and coveted by all or I am a useless log soggy, mossy and discarded away

I am either a flower blooming at early dawn or I am sagging brown dry bark, wasting and rotting away

I am either soft feathers providing comfy and luxurious rest or I am the hardest piercing rock discomforting you all night long

I am either the calm blue sky providing your eyes with a masterpiece or I am the restless inner core raging and splattering in all directions

I am either the heavenly bliss you hope for your eternity or the nightmare torment of the fiery pits of horrid hell that you dread