Winds
Outside the window there
was fury
The trees torturing at
their roots;
Flailing branches painted
across the sky
Into a cauldron of grays,
blacks, yellows and reds.
The wind's murmurs
interrupted by the thunderous drum rolls;
Flashes of white light
illuminating the fear that blinds
The virtuous and the
sinful alike -
Red earth and pouring
rain.
Inside the window there
is all to see
And yet, the blind brute
Stumbles around groping
at the why
Naked in a sense;
coveting cloth of dreads,
He understands not the
audience of souls
Witnessing the eternal internal
winds
Twisting, torquing in shattering
strikes -
Red blood and smoldering pain.
