The Storm
Visual imagery passes, in translucent azure.
A redolent toxin, straight from the waters of this earth.
Rhythmic, yet silent, in the burden it bares.
For the brilliant flushed blue we see in the air.
Soft sculptures engraved for only seconds.
Weakening, strengthening, breaking off in sections.
Bright twinkling flashes, tearing the sky in two.
Crashing melodies through and through.
Whistling sporadicly in pitch and tone.
Imagery moving to dark sculptured cones.
Thrashing, swirling, grasping the land.
Mother nature held us in her destructive hand.
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