The thunder that clouds the mind in a moving storm Ripples through the soul as a dark lit match The rain pours down upon tattered hearts And broken souls The eye is a temporary sweet spot of warm showers Until the lighting strikes your bitter turned heart once more The storm will twist and turn around man until he is consumed by his own madness When the heartbreak passes the puddles remain The grass will grow greener And the flowers will become a watercolor once more Though never the same as childhood innocence The ripples of storm will never cease Until man has put down his umbrella and felt the hale turn to gentle drops -Dust