Thunder, Free

Thunder, the gray even longer now
there have been better days.
Something closed and the sky
opened to its own defeat,
released a wall built on itself
and left me the rain
to walk in.

Thunder clap lay me down
to dream in clover, rolling
green and hillsides of
thatched rooftops. The air
is free and breathable here
and if you close your eyes
now and listen close, I swear
you could hear the sound of
pipes low in the distance.





...I don't want to keep feeling this way. They say silence is golden. No. Silence hurts, silence hurts.