The STORM

The Cloudy morning, the incessant storm outside

The constant banging of the door 

The door I tried to close, but I couldn't as it had no stopper

Often the door of the Conscious too keeps banging

But we often shut it, putting a stopper 

The unabashed storms hit our souls but with the closed doors, the searching comes to a halt 

And we rest in the conundrum of self-love, happiness, and greed.