The StormA Poem by PeteIt's a fallen world and man's sins will will never end.I gazed up at the evil, formidable sky from my window. The rain had stopped along with the thunder, lightning and wind. The storm had passed. Clouds were parting like clenched fists rubbing against blinking eyelids trying to regain focus. Like a waking child trying to erase sleep from his eyes. A spiritual exhaling. A renewed sense of freshness was attempting to take over the scene. But something was wrong. As I looked around, things were the same. The changes were only superficial. I still saw indifference. Pride and greed. Lust and envy. Gluttony, wrath and sloth. Prejudice. Bigotry. Thievery. Hate. Unfairness. Injustice. Abuse. Lies. Cheating and corruption. The lightning had done it's best to illuminate. The thunder to shake and rattle. The wind to sweep. Even the rain had pitched in, attempting to wash away the stains of a hundred generations, with it's weeping. But there was no sunshine and no rainbow. The sins of man were departing but only to relocate. Caught up in prophecies, presages and prestidigitation. Slight of hand in the stratus. They float around and have to land somewhere. They travel about like a frequent flier. They hide in the clouds like a magician and reappear. All they need is the right word from the wrong person. The mojo of incantations. Presto Chango. Abbracadabra. Alakazam. Hocus Pocus. Sim Sim Sala Bim. Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo. Izzy wizzy, let's get busy. Shazam and Open Sesame. Meeska, Mooska. Shemhamforash. Voila. Sometimes even expletives suffice and just like that, they're back again ... ... 'til the next storm ... © 2018 PeteFeatured Review
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Added on December 27, 2016Last Updated on January 21, 2018 AuthorPeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
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