The Cloudy skies...
They call out to something
deep within me.
What visions that rise...
from the depths of the being;
what visions now belong to me!
Eyes searching the firmament
gray, black, inky blue,
promises gift-wrapped in a bundle of colour.
As glints of light glimmer from between the folds
and clash with one another
with bellowing war cries
erupting from raging wars,
blue hits gray
black dispels them both.
Shiny tears of a wailing war-hating woman
descend to drench us in their sorrow
with plaintive tones for accompaniment.
Scary, thrilling, beyond mortal vision,
the world that benevolently hangs above
has tales, hidden, mysteriously unto itself
glimpses of which we snatch when it rains...
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