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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: February 19, 2016

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Submitted: February 19, 2016



Do I have a choice, I wonder, watching

hours slip away, laying around

I watch the clouds; they roll across the sky

in rolling fields of changing greys.

Dark thunderclouds with angry sounds threaten

to split wide open, drowning all the world.


Then thunderclouds are brushed away, replaced

by silver fluffy light pathetic things,

aesthetic in their innocence; they float

without a care across the skies and go their way.

Naive and fated to become

what is foretold to come to be.


Young ones pave the way for thunderclouds

that bring with them tempestuous weather, storms;

as one is born it passes by and havoc

wreaks, with flashing lights and rumbling sounds

dark thunderclouds are going around

the globe; they're spilling all their tears.


They are in vain, for in the rain

all live or die; what goes must come.

Storms go and come, and do not die

and I'm still lying here, and in the rain

or in the sun the changing skies just



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