The pressure builds,
The clouds darken,
Danger hangs by a thread.
The sun,
Darkening, sad and old,
Cuts that thread with it’s fall.
The rain falls,
Its over, too late.
Turn and turn and turn again,
You see the what but not the when.
Water pours from the clouds,
As if the sky, dark and sad,
Is crying strong tears of no hope,
Hope of the sun.
You see a flash, a flash so full of rage,
You close your eyes and await the pain.
You wait and wait and wait more,
Finally, as the clouds after a storm,
You open your eyes to the floor.
You see no wetness, no mist,
You look up at the sky and see,
See that what?
The storm is over,
The sun has won and left the clouds in a state of gore,
It hugs the earth in it’s warmth,
And recreates that thread to never,
Ever again let in the fierce glare of the gray…
The grayness of rain.
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