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Restless
the howling wind
bullies this night to tears,
increasing darks hold on the soul,
as shadows dance to deaths refrain
casting boughs to an earthly fate,
screaming obscenities to all
who foolishly challenge its might,
blackened clouds chase the heavens
blaspheming even the stars,
while grinning with blinding flashes
and drums bellow in relentless echo,
causing a dreams silent hesitation,
to tempests imposing majesty
"the howling wind bullies
"the howling wind
bullies this night to tears"
Fiercely imaginative! Your entire depiction seizes the experience of being at war with a brutal, endless night. The storm, as both physical atmosphere and a metaphor for the inner struggle, is almost audible. A memorable work of art.
Thank you Patricia, for the
Thank you Patricia, for the very kind words, and the visit, I'm glad you found this to your liking.