Thunderstorm

Miserable night.

Indifferent lightning.

A beast in the skies is

Tortured and bleeding.

 

Storm clouds are stabbed,

They wail and moan.

The thunder ‘s not clapping

It’s just a sound, yes,

The sound of dying alone.

 

White light won’t bolt,

It’ll slice bravely through

While winds twirl to dance

Around colt-black altars

Collecting spill-drop tears;

They howl until

The cloud sacrifices conclude.

 

Miserable night.

Isn’t it frightening,

Stain-soaked skies,

Your burden is lightening.

Author's Note

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