Petrichor

From the distance,
When the trees that obstruct,
Are deconstructed,
And the towers of steel,
Are forced to kneel,

One can witness,
Sky and ground collapse,
The horizon relapse,
And world’s connect,
In dramatic effect,

Lo, the earth beneath,
Slowly bequeaths,
The light it has away,
Colours sharply dim,
And drain in a whim,

The dark that lingers,
Sinks its fingers,
Onto the mortals below,
As they sow,
So shall they reap,

How welcome its presence,
From kings to peasants,
Mother knows no rules,
Should one obey,
Or challenge its sea of grey,

Breathe in its wails,
With heavy inhales,
Feel its massive wall,
This will conquer all,
With no one left behind,

Our standing selves,
Will be placed on shelves.
Aside and off screen,
Our souls will be left,
And our sins bereft,

Let this fall,
This Holy Water calls,
My weary mind asunder,
Ravage the wind and whip,
The hull of this creaking ship,

My faith won’t falter,
In this divine altar,
The voice of God,
Cracks through thunder,
And keeps me under His command,

For when this ends,
His choice of fate sends,
For my desperate heart,
I choose to start,
Fresh and anew,

Like the morning dew,
That gently tops the grass,
Or the careful drops,
That dribble down the glass,

I choose life,
And all its strife,
For how I will grow,
If I refuse to show,
My face from static sun?

Let Thy will be done,

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