by Michael R. Burch
It was early in the morning, in the forming of my soul,
in the dawning of desire, with passion at first bloom,
with lightning splitting heaven to thunder's blasting roll
and a sense of welling fire and, perhaps, impending doom—
that I cried out through the tumult of the raging storm on high
for shelter from the chaos of the restless, driving rain . . .
and the voice I heard replying from a rift of bleeding sky
was mine, I'm sure, and, furthermore, was certainly insane.
Published by Penny Dreadful, The Eclectic Muse, Fullosia Press and Poetry Life & Times. Keywords/Tags: shock, nightmare, insanity, dream, dreams, storm, rain, lightning, thunder, rift, sky, red, bleeding, ******, voice