A Thundering Battle

November 2, 2005/January 16, 2006

The cool sharp air is driftin slowly into where we are. It is bringing with it the feel of rain. I can smell it coming. It is beautiful and grey outside with the clouds rolling in above me, darker and darker they appear on the horizon, heavier and heavier with their life giving blood. Let them come and bathe us with their soft touch. The ground is thirsty, expanding towards the sky, grasping at the clouds for rain. You can almost see the dirt floating skyward. It will be here soon enough. Rest earth, rest while you wait. Shatter the world with your patience. It will come.

Rolls of soldiers steadily march in among us, showing their power to change the world. The wind that accompnaies them with the blasting of trumpets and the whispering of drums sends chills through the blades of grass. The sound of chattering leaves almost ready to fall strives to overpower the last feeble songs of the birds. The Rays of sunlight are trying as hard as their beams allowe them to catch a glimpse of the world below the clouds. They strike at holes in the clouds, making them larger with each blow, but their newly created windows are covered once discovered.

It is indeed a glorious day to be alive.