Of a clear summer sky. The air thickens,
And old bones groan in painful memory,
Of past dark secrets, forgotten evils.
My time draws near
Shadow creeps silently from solemn rest,
Night unannounced, challenges the day
Its master’s whips of rage scourging,
Each steadily watering the seed of
my invention
Silence now, as the chill of truth strikes 
The incipient, arid, indifference.
Its liquid hatred giving shape to a
Terrible, hovering mass, forming from
my doubt
A bass rumbling shakes the foundations of
Opposition. Slowly at first, and with
Mounting power, cleansing doom pours from the
Sky. And spears of electric judgment scorch
my fear.
As the fourth line comes to bear
The temporal tempest returns
And I’ve decided