Isaac Rye Poet Quatrain

Divine Instrument

The pressure drops and the clouds spin round
The angels make their music
The sunshine stops, rain hits the ground
Tesla knew they'd do it

The skies bring more than a downpour
Our emotions begin to alter
The grey mass blots out the light
And bring terror if you've faltered

Forbidden beliefs are cast to the sea
Invisible from the shoreline
The heavy weather knows us better
A stronger swimmers alright

Above I glance and at a chance
I see the angels playing
They look down, synchronise their sound
Their displeasure has me swaying

Their sound strikes fear as it meets my ears
Then they threaten with a staff
I question why I see with my eyes 
And as they play they laugh

"Deafen yourself and keep your eyes down
Don't like the music? Well here's our rod!"
Then the playing stopped, their rod was dropped
For there was the angered God

I could not believe what I could see
He took the halos from their heads
He picked me up, put me on the beach
Then cast them to the depths

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