the coming storm
the storm, the storm is coming. rolling, loud thunder claps a griz- ly roar. torrent shroud
shedding the sky. harsh bolts of light strike the lands beyond the marsh. the blue that we see
is devoured by shade, which blankets us as the winds do try, breaking the walls, thus
coming into our homes, and making it their play thing, to sour, our night as we sit
hobbled together closely, we never give in if whether weather should ever
take a turn for the worst, we stand with glee.
-Roerich
















