Storm clouds
of black thunder
electrical magnetic powered
sparks lashing loose wired
consumed by lightning fire
a wild red blazing blue
hot smouldering coals of you
the final burning through
a certain kind of death
grey the ashes
of our truth.

Raindrops die on the windowpanes today;
each one now on its way to becoming an ocean.

it starts to grow cold
night unwraps stars
and amber moons,
the stream sings
with its silver-throated joys
and dreams of the skies
with their beautiful
dark
sorrows.

With your hands
Held aloft
And passion blazing in your eyes,
Your voice resonates
In an empty room
For the audience
Strain to hear
The whispers from the shadows.
And the applause
Echoing in your ears
Is merely a work of fiction.
Those who shout loudest
Will be the first
To lose their voice.