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The storm has just passed,
The twilight sky is left behind.
Clouds fill the universe above me,
Sprinkled evenly with blue ink.
The red rays from hope ,
Are shining on the horizon,
Like a dying bonfire,
Casting A seven colored faith,
As its Godly idol to the world,
For life to endure in faith of its return.
The world is still rising,
From its deep slumber,
The storm brought to them.
The trees are draped with icy mystic cloak,
Like gaunt men with white shawl.
Few ice robes are flaring,
Standing tall against the red sun,
Like brave warriors,
Bathing in fresh red blood,
And basking in GOD’s rays of life.
The birds aren’t chirping,
No laughter is on their lips,
But are shivering with pain,
For the life lost in storm.
The low groans of the animals,
Search for their beloved voices.
As I muse in this storm,
Of angelic and peaceful ambiance,
Or of the ghastly and dreadful consequences,
That has left life unearthed.
-Will.G
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