Overcast skies, clouds dancing about
In random syncopation; what was once a
Calming breeze transforms to a Howl…
And soon the rains will come—as if to
Wash away the muck, and purify those spirits
Most unclean…
But even as powerful as the Tempest is, it too
Must pass away—taking with it much of what stood
In its Wake, but some things even the Tempest
Cannot remove, and although stains appear to be
Washed away, they remain—a temporal phantom,
That lingering sting, screaming in your waking mind…
Through those silent moments when past asserts
Its presence and the veil of distracting worlds
Cease to be…
--The Sad Man (Fathom 9)
