The Storm

The dark calls out,
The storm rushes in.
Anger comes in huge waves,
and crashes over the deserted beach.

The wind howls,
The lightning strikes,
Slicing the sky open
letting the thunder roar through.

As quickly as it arose,
The storm vanishes. The wind calms,
The waves begin to roll gently,
and sound like a heart beating.

The sky remains grey,
the clouds listless.
A mist rises from the water,
shrouding the world around.

It is still dark, darker yet it seems.
There isn’t much movement,
Just the oppressive presence
Of a mood descending.

The misted veil is worn,
Disguising the anguish of the storm passed.
Peaceful, but not at peace,
It sits and waits for it all to clear.