Winds

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.