Rushing Words

A rushing wind roaring strong across broad land bearing all away black clouds overhead like rolling hillsides are monochrome colors lost a barren landscape seen jagged lightning flashes down as mighty thunder roars a cannonade of the gods sharply strikes the land sharply slashes hard raindrops down as if to tear the flesh stripping it from bones beneath baring forth the soul and the soil is churned up and splashed on everything filth that is by rains brought and cannot be washed away sharp that sounds that you hear carried upon the wind and crashing all around till you are overwhelmed ripping winds would bear away the fragile thoughts you have stealing forth the very breath that barely you can take mighty power nature has feeble man cannot withstand standing before it's power bare his tools cannot bear sway man's breath most feeble is cannot the clouds move and his fire made with sticks cannot light the sky in the quiet of his caves in the dark of night by the glowing of fires light of his power he dreams of the glory of his tools and of his knowledge great of the world how he will change and bend it as he would but as the earth shakes and rolls and as the mighty wind blows flooding water washes away all his feeble toys