.:.Thunder.:.

2am Nov 15/01

there are whispers in the storm...
but they're not voices,
just the wind and the rain singing a song of their own.

                               ;the faded bridge of destiny upon which all men walk;
                               ;sports misunderstood signage carved by children's chalk;

caught between the tears
and the laughter,
I find myself lost without a place to call my home.

                               ;and as the one end burns, the other quickly builds;
                               ;for unseen is the arrow our Angel of Darkness wields;

drifting through empty streets,
past deserted buildings,
out onto the causeways and across the gaping hole,

                               ;shot through the global conscious with the puzzle less one piece;
                               ;we wait for the clouds to break as the sun rises in the East...;

my sanity draws itself yet
another pathway
to stretch the distance traveled by my soul.