Hidden Behind the Clouds

During these times, our cities stand bare. In picturesque grey, without a busy business. A mask the merchandise wear standing there. In silent closure, venues lost all their riches. Suddenly, blown down by the wildest hurricane. Storms wrapped in a riddle made business failed. A blitz from the mythical sky to the premises came. Lapping each day with rapid vortex rain and hail. The dark energy defines our impregnability. Pierce the veils with deep dimension floods. The shock takes us there, to a place of poverty. There the metropole is hidden by the clouds. We see now our lives bare as the autumn trees. With hardly anything of merchandise to boast. Yet, hidden behind the clouds, there are cities. Wearing clothes of gold-lined along the coast. They froze in an aura of respectability nearby. Anxiety spreads and grinds to an immediate debt. Far in the sky, heaven hears our mother city cry. For compensation given with faltering breath. Borrowing and worrying loom as winter gloom. Hope offers the boom of gifts we love so vainly. Government masquerades rise in compassion. As the cunning masters of infinite mercy.