The Unstoppable Storm
Performed by Awaken Soul Watchers
℗ CosmicCrusaderMusic.com (BMI/ASCAP)
©Written, Produced, and Published by Christopher Sopher Media, LLC
Phoenix, Arizona
The Dream: The Unstoppable Storm
Part 1. What Do I Want?
Part 2. The Dream - Severe Storm Warning
Part 1. What Do I Want?
What Do I Want?
I’m so tired.
I’m sleeping, but I’m exhausted.
I keep tossing, turning.
Why can’t I rest?
The stillness of this quiet hotel room presses in.
It’s so quiet I can hear everything,
and yet there’s nothing to hear.
The hotel doesn’t settle.
No footsteps in the hallway.
No doors opening or closing.
It’s just me.
Alone in this room.
What is it that I really want?
I can place myself anywhere.
Any moment.
How long have I been longing for touch?
For connection?
I had it once.
Lost it inside a story of betrayal.
I lay back and ask myself again,
what do I want?
As I drift, half asleep,
I sense someone entering the room.
The Surrender to what's about to come.
I don’t see her,
but I know who it is.
And I welcome it.
Quiet steps.
Barefoot on hardwood.
Soft. Careful.
As if she already understands what I need.
She comes to the bed.
The mattress shifts as she joins me.
She leans close and whispers,
her voice low, steady.
I know you can’t sleep.
I hear you tossing.
But I’ve got you.
You’re safe with me.
You trust this moment.
You can let go.
Let every muscle loosen.
I’ll take the wheel.
I drift deeper,
as if a spell has been cast.
Is it the brown eyes of a witch?
Or is it Alice?
It doesn’t matter.
My body releases completely.
I fall asleep.
Then —
a warm hand at the back of my neck.
Shh.
I’ve got you.
You can lower your guard.
No stress.
No pain.
Just you and me,
the same.
Her lips are warm.
A scent like an aphrodisiac lingers.
I surrender.
Instrumental Break:
Part 2. The Dream - Severe Storm Warning
A Severe Thunderstorm warning has been issued.
Lightning flashes.
Thunder crashing.
I hear the pouring rain.
As her fingertips trace my skin,
drawing goosebumps into being.
I am powerless
against the patience of her touch.
She maps me slowly,
as if naming stars only she can see.
My mountains don’t rise all at once.
They listen.
They respond.
Her fingers pause,
still,
waiting for the pulse to invite her.
Edges dissolve.
Intention fades.
I stop steering.
Not taken —
eased into surrender.
She moves south, unannounced,
the way water finds its path.
Lower.
Then lower still.
No urgency.
Only knowing.
The land changes here.
Grass becomes sand.
Warm. Yielding.
A shoreline.
Where edges blur.
Where the ocean waits.
She pauses.
Feels the heat.
Feels the pull.
And something shifts.
The waves arrive.
They retreat.
They return again, closer each time.
The tide turns inward.
Hot air rushes in.
Cold air follows.
Something gives.
She speaks in breath —
hot, then cool —
like a storm forming
before the sky decides.
I crash.
A flood warning is advised.
Thunder breaks me open from within.
Lightning strikes the peak
of my secret garden.
A twister forms,
pulling all the air inward.
As it touches down
At the center of my flower.
A rhythmic thirst pulling me deep,
My hips begin to rise,
I grasp the sheet, holding on,
not to be sucked into the storm.
Lightning fractures the night.
Sparks scatter.
She holds my hand
as the storm moves through me.
I rolled over to rise on my knees,
Bent over,
my cheek resting on the ground,
looking behind.
As I see the eyes,
of this storm.
Coming closer,
And moving faster.
I feel.
I am safe
inside her chaos.
I feel the storm,
moving inside me.
With back and forth pressure,
her fingers guided me to safety.
Come, she cried out,
I responded, I'm coming.
Yielding.
To the floods about to blow.
It can no longer be held back.
Again, I look behind,
I see the eyes,
Feasting.
Devouring.
Ravishing.
Everything in sight.
Not violently.
But the way a storm finally remembers
what it came to do.
The levy spills.
No retreat now.
Heat blooms.
Spreads.
Takes over the landscape.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
I feel my heartbeat.
Twitching within.
Pulsating over and over.
The flood spills again.
Uncontrolled.
Not holding back.
Fearless, it falls from me.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God.
I passed out from exhaustion.
Somewhere between sleep and waking,
I smile.
Because even in rest,
even alone,
My body remembered how to arrive.
Content, I lay.
One final release.
Ahh.
