Flame In The Tempest

The clouds had been gathering,
The gale had been raging,
the sun had been murdered,
the glens had been plundered,
with a silence that forboded evil,
it waited...

When he stepped out...out of his refuge,
When the caring hand and the soothing mouth were no longer nigh,
It happened... it began to rain...

But no such rain any mortal eye had seen...
Where each drop was a shard of the Satan's knife,
Where each drop bore the smouldering rage of the devil,
Where drop was the all-consuming flame of guilt...ofsorrow...of love... of loss...

But no mortal man was he either, or so it seemed,
Long ere a drop landed, it turned to vapour...
Fire to fire, ashes to ashes...
The wrath of Evil was consumed by the man, or was he a man?

Yes he was,
A man with a sleeping mind.
But how long? How long could the fair cloak of sleep fend off the poison?
At last, a drop of death hit his mind, awakened it and turned it numb,
now,
He had nowhere to turn back, nowhere to hide...
nowhere to take refuge, nowhere to confide...

His mind was burning alive ...
Burning in the unforgiving flame of life's hatred...
No man sawhis pyre... no one cared to,
But he has a mighty heart... a heart whose complexities are beyond man's reckoning,
And thus he burns... I say burns, not burned...
And waits for a heart mightier yhan his,
to come and help him... to come and soothe him...
to come and save him... to come and FORGIVE him...


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You all might think it is a weird poem... well it's a kind of personal refection, so don't bother much if you don't really get the feelof it (as mike says... hear to see). Not really in high spirits... duh, i never am, just managed to post once.
SEEYA LATER!!!