I’m sitting outside,
Listening to the darling sky,
As it cries it’s cold rivers.
The earthy smell cushions against me.
The lighting strikes and the thunder claps.
Haunting me with its sadness and anger.
But instead of mourning with the rain,
I jump out this time.
Dancing with the beauty of the pain.
The river throws pieces of ice,
That cut me open,
And I’m left bleeding.
I talk and listen to the river.
Exchanging stories and our pieces of ice.
We talk and cry so much,
That there is nothing left.
But the last golden rays of the sun,
Cutting against the dark silhouette of the crying blanket of ash.