When I was little
I was told that rain
was the tears of angels.
How much pain must they be in
to create a storm such as this?
The lightning their sobs,
thunder their raging breaths,
hot tears turned cold as they fall to the ground
down on their knees
eyes ******* shut
throat burning as they wail.
What must have happened
to those perfect,
beautiful creatures?
Were they staring down at the world
watching as we
pillage and ****
****** and steal
lie and cheat?
Listening to us scream
in anger
or pain
or frustration?
Tuning in to the thoughts
of our broken youth
hearing them hate
and hurt themselves
till they're covered in scars
that will never fade?
The hurricane never waves
flood rising crashing like ocean waves
wind torturing nature around it.
The trees creak and sway
as the angels mourn.
The world around them
finally reflects the conflictions
in their heads.

Slashing through
The silver visage
Of a golden dream.
Snapped open
With the clap of a book
That cleanly split an
Eternally unified sky,
And resonated through
This stagnant planet.

We fall into
Form fitting pieces
Of one another
Each other's own
Silent feeling

But it is all I want
To sleep still and
Dream unafraid
Aching deeply to
Drum thunder across
Vacant marble halls
Coalescing as the
Texture of the things
We all have
Trouble believing

Though it shows
Aimlessly we go
Out with lanterns
Looking for this thing
We call a soul