Panic

Slow gloves of thunder,

heaving loads of depraved prayer,

lapping at the landscape;

Knowledge and Shadow:

drape heavily over softly pastured hills.

An ewe laments its mother

lost forever in the flood.

Its song, drowned by the mournful chants

of an ark's burden

wand'ring aimlessly in sorrow.

Torrents of blood

leak into the shelter:

drives to all reason. And

without doubt

Tempest reaches all.