Clash Against the Sky

Thunder sunders the sky, leaving angry holes

Wide enough for the lightning to violently tear rips, and jagged edges that

The wind batter-flaps... the wind pushes, whips the sky's jagged edges and torn folds,

Creating an orchestra, a cacophany of- whistle, flap, crack... boom.

A cloud palace, a cathedral framed by rain to torrent down

Upon the Golem.

The Sky, in it's untamed fury, Its unimaginable loneliness,

It's poisonous envy of the ground,

Unleashes its wrath upon the Golem, who

Stands huddled, yet fierce in his own right against the violence,

His melancholy sorrow a shield to the belligerent acrimony, Yet

Cradling a Sapling that will grow into Joy.

The Golem is immune to the harsh faults of the sky,

Driven to find his own Happiness, He will let they sky fall upon him,

And not let it have him.