A poem, I am the storm

I am the storm, the frightening sky;
I dream the wind, I call the rain;
My heart is lofty and bright,
But shadowed by the clouds you see.
I am the storm, running in the light.

You are my earth, my world is you;
I move across you, I thunder and rain;
My strength worships you,
Caresses your face, soft and gently.
I am the storm, sweeping through.

You feel so frail, seem so fresh;
You test me, taunt me, and refrain;
My ardor draws out your breath,
Yet if I pause, you find me weak.
I am the storm, I can find no rest.

I am a man, just a man, am I;
You are what you are, untamed;
My heart, like yours, frames the sky,
Yet we are forever apart, you and me.
I am the storm, I never cry.

You stand beside the mountain;
His arms embrace you, keep you safe;
He defies the storm, thunder and rain,
Though in mortal time he kneels in place.

The storm rises above the mount;
The lady's heart seeks the sky;
Her feet tremble on rocky ground,
Yet her storm passes by.

To be a mountain for one day;
For one hour in which to live;
To hear you whisper, "stay",
To breathe the breath from your lips.

A storm may rue the day
It chose to pass, not to stay.
A mountain should I have been;
Mortal and brave, I would have lived.

Come, raise your hand to my face,
Stay beside me in your place.
Give me your golden heart,
Assure me we will never part.

I am the storm, your angry sky;
You see only lightning in my eye;
My heart is strong and bright.
Yet if this feels wrong, not right,
You banish me to the empty night.