Lightening across a heat stricken sky Angry winds feast their anger onto rolling tides The inner instinct tells us to run and hide and yet here we stand Heads back; mouths open Arms spread far and wide Ready to taste the sweet rainwater from the raging storm outside In hopes to feel the same winds beneath and deep inside Howl at the nonexistent moon and let the myths hinder our pride Amongst the madness and the sadness Won't you hear us cry?
I wrote this poem from the view of a poet. Catch my drift? (C) Maxwell 2014