When the fog lifted, i watched the forest sway where the rain began.

It was as though a static born, when the thunder turned to storm, and formed puddles under the street lights that would dim, as i walked beneath them.

On the path I had, a cliff side view, of the wrath in waves, as they ravaged rocks, in watery quests to carve the caves, for the tide to drink, of sinking thoughts, that patiently passed in my peripheral.

Spiraling vacantly, receding back to sea, in hollow moans, toning to another side of me.

Traversing tranquility, in the sanctity of spacious seas, seemingly of me, the emptiness of swallowed shores, drifting unto shallow swells, of surrendered swamps, to flooded lands, my emptied head, unto empty hands, to grasp the darkened clouds, of shrouded amens.

As time slowed, the thunder closed, on the lightning, as it lit the trees, summoning silhouettes over the shaking streets, that dance before me, smearing the tears, and the burning defeats, until withered away, as the sun breaks, in spectral hues, that washed away, the dirt.