When the first one lands
On my head,
it falls, the sky
Its thunder grow loud
I imagine
the tales, they shroud
The dust settles, and
the air gathers mist
And my eyes mortified
in terror, and hands forming a fist
I chance upon
an opening in a distant cloud
Moonlight withering down,
embellished in a mystical array
As if, they are men
that they stand for
And, I can see
the gems of a weary crown
And the sky,
it is gory
And the stars,
they just keep falling down…
