Rising Storm

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
How the weather can reflect are most secret feelings.

Submitted: May 06, 2007

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Submitted: May 06, 2007

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Horsemen riding from the North.
In the East the shadows rise.
Bubbling, brewing, building up
Towering black across the skies.

Purple and black, the darkness flows.
Like blood, it seeps across the blue.
The tide of darkness ever growing.
Welling up in me and you.

With a flash, lightning strikes
Like flesh, it tears the cloud
Ripping cross the starless night
Rumbling soft, then loud.

Violence, and anger flung
Like bloodspray in a fight.
It rots the skies, and kills the day
And creates eternal night.

The Son is dead, the Darkness won
The fight is for Salvation.
Not for themselves (for they are God)
But for each generation.

Although it creeps, this daylight new
The storm will soon devour.
Hungry for souls and the stench of death
It feeds every hour.

We've been given Light to light the path
Which some don't want to use.
So the Dark surrounds in cloud and shade.
And their soul it consumns.


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