I am struck by a lightning bolt

Issuing forth from that ominous

Cloud, sent by that cruel gale.


At a distance of time, that gale

Was but a smooth, cool zephyr

Carrying hope, love, and dreams.


Perhaps this concentrated blade

Is the violent shattering of the zephyr,

Striking me with the full force of life


That callous, cloudy vessel drifts

Ubiquitously, bringing its omens

To each and every azure firmament.


Yet now, blackened with cruelty,

That tempestuous harbinger

Does away with my optimism.


Even so, that swift, wicked strike

Leaves me a small vestige of hope

To store in that fickle, turbid mass


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