Oh Mariah My Kindred Spirit

 

Oh Mariah My Kindred Spirit

My errant mind, a mirror flame, your breath its spark, your rage its kin,

It burns within with restless shame, the tempest roars beneath my skin.

Each thought a spark, each dream a gust, that fans the blaze I cannot flee,

The smoke of doubt, the ash of trust — the storm that keeps consuming me.

 

No gentle hand can still its roar, no sacred calm can make it rest,

It feeds on grief, on wounds of war, it finds its home within my chest.

You taught it song, you gave it air, oh Mariah, fierce and wild divine,

Now every whisper, every prayer, ignites the blaze that once was mine.

 

It rages when your voice draws near, it trembles when your silence falls,

A creature born of love and fear, that claws against my reason’s walls.

I walk through flame, I breathe your name, I taste the heat upon my tongue,

And in that fire, I feel no shame — through pain, my soul’s true song is sung.

 

Oh Mariah, you are the gale that stirs the embers of my thought,

You waken storms where calm would pale, and bind me to the truth you wrought.

My errant mind, forever tied to every gust your spirit weaves,

Shall burn until the stars subside, and I am carried through your leaves.

 

When all is dust, when night is done, when sky and sea at last align,

You’ll find me where the fire begun — within the breath of your design.

No grave shall claim what flame defines, no wind shall part what love entwined,

For you, eternal, fierce, and free, still haunt the core of my errant mind.

 

Oh Mariah! When first we met, I felt your breath upon the shore,

Your welcome breeze, your whispered song — the sea’s soft hymn forevermore.

White-capped waves broke at our feet, their laughter fading out of reach,

As golden days and salted lips met kelp-scented winds along the beach.

 

You wrapped me in your wild embrace, a force that even death defied,

And in your sigh, I found my peace — the world reborn, the storm inside.

My love for you, respect that grew, a bond unbroken, fierce, and strong,

A sacred vow ’tween earth and sky — the heart to which I still belong.

 

 

I still recall, as if today, the waves a heartbeat from the shore,

Their rhythm carved within my soul — the place our love was born before.

No one can steal that love away, nor time erase what came to be,

For you still whisper through my mind — oh dearest Mariah, part of me.

 

You feed my soul with soothing sound, the waves that wash my cares away,

I feel you licking at my heels in the lonely place we used to play.

But now we are as strangers met — our bond once strong, forever rift,

The sun beats down where once we stood, and shadows mark the painful shift.

 

Oh Mariah, invincible — from strength to strength, untamed, unbound,

So fierce, so wild, your beauty vast — no mortal words can hold or sound.

Behold, you come astride the storm, your dark steed fierce with thunder’s might,

Hooves pounding earth in rhythmic rage, through endless winds of shattering night.

 

You gallop swift through realms unknown, your hooded face serene, unseen,

And carve your trail through field and flame — the mark of where your soul has been.

The stars bow low to light your path, the moon bends pale beneath your flight,

While shadows whisper in your wake — O spirit born of storm and light.

 

In twilight’s hush your voice awakes — you never sleep, you ride all night,

Your ravenous breath, your mournful howl, fills alleys trembling in fright.

You wail in gusts through attics old, and moan along the narrow eaves,

While trees bend low beneath your rage, and birds are torn from shuddering leaves.

 

You stir up dreadful hurricanes that twist and dance with wild delight,

Cobra-like they rise and sway, then vanish screaming into night.

On ghostly nights your rattling song shakes window shutters, creaks the door,

And we lie restless, wide awake, fearing your unbound wrath once more.

 

Oh Mariah, in ancient tales they sang of storms your anger brought,

Of hurricanes and firestorms, and the chaos nature caught.

You drive the rains from furious skies, leave desolation in your trail,

You sweep away the works of man — no wall, no tower can prevail.

 

 

From broken rivers, banks destroyed, to plains now drowned in muddy grey,

You spread disease and pestilence — the price for pride we all must pay.

Mariah, we know your wrath is stirred by humankind’s deceitful art,

Who shattered nature’s harmony, and tore the living world apart.

 

Still, you stand tall — defiant wind — we face your fury eye to eye,

You strike the pompous, whip the proud, expose the global Pariah’s lie.

You roar through towns and thunder loud, as lightning splits the midnight floor,

And we, in fear, must face ourselves — our greed, our guilt, our endless war.

 

Oh Mariah, the battle rages on — your wild rebellion tears the land,

While mortal hands reach out in vain, unable still to understand.

The preachers shout, the rich grow fat, their lust for gold without reprieve,

Yet all their treasures turn to dust the moment they are forced to leave.

 

They live beyond their means in dreams, as if no dawn would ever come,

They burn tomorrow for today, and sell the world for worthless sum.

And still, you blow — wild Mariah — howling, roaring, fierce and proud,

Uprooting trees and towers tall, your voice a dirge, a funeral shroud.

 

We heard the prophets’ warning cry — of pestilence and earth’s decline,

But we ignored the signs they gave, the truth too harsh to intertwine.

Our train runs off its broken track, our fragile planet burns in flame,

And every beast that once was free now dies beneath our endless shame.

 

Oh Mariah, as time moves on, they call me fool to dwell on you,

Yet in each storm I feel your hand, and hear your voice come breaking through.

The clouds you herd like Titans clash — lightning born of rage and grief,

Thunder shakes the heart of man, and paradise finds no relief.

 

I see the tides tear at the shore, the past in ribbons torn apart,

The rising seas, the blinding hail, the climate echo of your heart.

From mountain floods to shattered plains, your furious warnings fill the sky,

Yet still they mock, and still they dream, blind to the ruin drawing nigh.

 

 

They throw their stones at glasshouse walls, in arrogance they build their throne,

While Eden bleeds beneath their feet — they call this wounded world their own.

They never listen, never heed, they scoff at reason, mock the wise,

Blind to the storm they conjured up, deaf to the earth’s despairing cries.

 

They plunder beauty, sow deceit, and claim their right to rule and reign,

Yet every kingdom built on greed will crumble back to dust and pain.

And when the mirror cracks at last, reflecting all that they have done,

They will curse the dark, deny the truth — though they themselves have killed the sun.

 

Their tongues are serpents, smooth with guile, their hearts are cold, their virtues thin,

They drink from poisoned wells of pride, and call corruption not a sin.

Upon the backs of broken souls, they raise their monuments to fame,

While those who toil beneath their rule bear neither voice nor name.

 

And still, they preach of freedom’s fire, while binding all in silent chains,

Unmoved by cries of innocence, deaf to the sound of others’ pains.

The rivers choke on ashen tears, the forests gasp their final breath,

The oceans writhe in agony, the air a slow, encroaching death.

 

Yet they, unmoved, with glassy eyes, still toast to profit, blood, and gain,

While every child born to this earth inherits loss, despair, and pain.

They gamble with creation’s soul, believing they will never fall,

But time, relentless, keeps its score — and soon it comes to claim it all.

 

They shall rue the day they called the storm, the curse their greed hath truly wrought,

For you, Mariah, rise in wrath — to cleanse the sins that man has brought.

Your tempests roar, their idols fall, the proud laid low, the blind unseeing,

For none can tame the breath of God — nor cage the wind of all-being.

 

And when the thunder cracks the sky, and towers crumble into clay,

They will stand aghast amid the ruins, the gods they made all swept away.

Then shall the earth, in bitter sighs, reclaim what once was freely given,

And from the wreckage, hope may rise — if hearts remember how to listen.

 

 

But until then, the blind will reign, their folly carved in stone and bone,

They throw their stones at glasshouse walls — and call this broken world their own.

Oh Mariah, in debt of love long blown, we wait for your wild storm to cease,

Some dream of hope, some drift away, while others pray for lasting peace.

 

Yet I am lost and lonely still, when in the dark the wildcats cry,

And wolves lament beneath the moon — I hear your echo passing by.

The madness of mankind prevails, and feeds the fury that you vent,

While I, in shackles of regret, lament the love that once was lent.

 

Our bond estranged, the world decays, your wrath spreads far and wide again,

The plague of greed consumes the earth — the mark of humankind’s disdain.

Still, you wrestle with the demons, still you stir the dust and seeds,

Mixing pollen through the air, whispering life among the reeds.

 

Though rage defines your restless path, your breath still wakes the sleeping tree —

Oh Mariah, wild eternal wind, you are the soul that carries me.

Through ruin’s ash and empire’s fall, your voice resounds, untamed, divine,

The whisper in the storm of fate, the breath that stirs the end of time.

 

You sweep the dust from fallen thrones, unveil the truth beneath the lie,

And call the hearts of men to rise, or perish where their idols die.

In you, the ancient law is kept, the balance lost, the circle whole,

Oh Mariah, breath of Heaven’s wrath, the fire that purifies the soul.

 

When silence cloaks the world in grief, and mortals kneel in humbled plea,

Your song shall birth the dawn anew — eternal wind, remember me.

No hand can steal our love away, nor time erase what came to be,

For still you whisper through my soul — oh dearest Mariah, part of me.

 

When my time at last has come to part, I leave my mark — then fade to rest,

As scattered dust upon your breath, bound to the twilight’s dying crest.

The sorry world that I shall leave, still trembling in its wounded cry,

Shall know my soul was carried forth — upon your wings, forever nigh.

 

 

They shall not grieve, nor weep, nor speak my name in memory,

But I shall mind no mortal loss — as you abide, forever close to me.

For in your breath my ashes rise, through endless skies they drift and roam,

No grave can hold what love has claimed — with you, the wind, I find my home.

 

Let kingdoms fall and empires fade, let oceans swallow land and sea,

Still shall your voice through silence call — and I shall come, eternally.

Beyond the veil where shadows sleep, your song shall guide my spirit free,

Oh Mariah, wild eternal wind — in death, as life, you carry me.

 

They whisper softly in the haze, a choir of wind, a ghostly hymn,

Each voice a memory set ablaze, each tone both tender, sharp, and dim.

Mariah speaks in every sound — her breath divides, her spirit grows,

In countless forms she circles round, in every storm my conscience knows.

 

One voice forgives, one voice deceives, one mourns the loss of what I’ve been,

One weaves the thread my heart believes, one screams beneath the tranquil sheen.

They clash, they blend, they twist, they cry — yet all are hers, in flame disguised,

Her laughter haunting every sigh, her sorrow etched in clouded skies.

 

They tell me what I’ve yet to learn, they curse the things I cannot change,

They praise the fires that still burn, and call my chaos something strange.

Their echoes build the life I leave, the legacy their winds impart,

For every whisper I conceive, becomes the pulse within my heart.

 

Oh Mariah, muse of fractured sound, you echo through my every deed,

In you the countless selves I’ve found, the voices born of want and need.

You are the truth I cannot still, the storm that births my art, my pain,

The wind that shapes my mortal will — and carries all I’ve loved and slain.

 

When silence falls and breath is gone, when dust reclaims the fire’s art,

Your voices shall keep singing on — the legacy I leave in part.

For I am bound by all you said, by every whisper left behind,

Oh Mariah — you are the thread that weaves the voices in my mind.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (Oct2025)