• I can see with my wild eyes, the white ocean of the sky,
    And I can hear a chorus of trees serenading.
    The deafening collision of planets in eye,
    And the water of life cascading.
    With the shining white light, and the angels' sighs,
    And the brilliant serpents with their sleeping breath.
    There is fire in the voice of a madman's cries,
    Yet no tales of mourning or death.

    I feel air in my chest, songs unsung and burning,
    And I an taste the ozone on my tongue.
    The clouds of white turned gray and turning,
    And the serenades turned grim in my lungs.
    The very fabric of the sky pulls forth and falls,
    And the water of life, turned to tears, cascading.
    About the shining light of the angels turned dark, and calls,
    "This is the fire of life that is raining!"

    The madman's cries cease, as he takes a knee in fear,
    The constant spin of tornados wrecking the earth.
    As the serpents wake, hissing death in his ear,
    He grips onto the life he had, for what it was worth.
    And the twisters do turn, to pull the skin from bones,
    Leaving the black sky cluttered with material existence.
    The trees are pulled from the ground while they scream of home,
    In a matter of second, the cataclysm sees no resistance.

    And yet, the rain of angels' tears being to clear and subside,
    Whilst the twisters and storms begin to fade.
    The crying trees fall back into their rightful place,
    Amongst the sleeping serpents, the water's cascade.
    When the skies do clear and become and ocean once more,
    The madman scrambles from his knees to his feet.
    His knuckles are torn, blistered and sore,
    But he still thanks God for the storm's retreat.

    The madman gazes at a land torn by the cataclysm,
    And sighs as he looks away in sentiment.
    With his life a fragile perspective of microcosm,
    He then begs God to lament.
    The man knows he's been spared, and is free to live again,
    And thus looks to right his wrongful deeds.
    As he walks about the tattered and broken remains,
    His new-found world, in turn, to plant the seeds,
    Of a new hope.