the storm

the storm does not know how to relent, it must push itself on no matter the forests or the cliff faces standing stark against it. they have stood for a million years and will not shudder for some small wind, some temporary rain throwing itself against them.

and yet the storm will not step from its path, will not be anything other than what it is, all it is. it will persist and it will not take down these cliffs or the forest or perhaps even a single tree, but it will do what it does despite the results, despite the consequences.

for the storm knows that the sea that feeds it will not stop either, that each grain of sand on that beach was once a mighty rock on some taller cliff face, and it wore them all to nothing. the storm knows what can be done and so it rolls in and on, over the beaches pours its blood out upon the vast forest. 

i will leave all of myself here across the lands and flood the plains, the rivers will drown in their own turmoil, i know no other way. the ground will shake, the air itself electric. you will know that i am a beast born of the sea, here to bleed myself dry, you will know me. you will know me.


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