The Coming Storm






A weird shade of green is the sky above

Trees are bowing to the strong cold gust

Which is giving objects wings as a dove

So they lift off the earth like dust




A fierce storm is brewing and moving fast

Yet I move not to take cover

For I know the die is cast

And there is mystery to discover




What know ye of the prophecies of old

Not many I guarantee ye

If ye did ye would not be so brassy and bold

But praying for one last plea




Think ye can stop the storm that comes?

Nay, but some will try

Listen to the sounding drums

And pray that ye don't die




For the time is now, as you've been told

But you listen not, even today

They are true , the prophecies of old

You cannot have it your way




Now I must leave you to your fate

For I will warn no more

This storm that comes will not abate

There is destruction at your door




Goodbye, farewell, I'll see you no more

This is where the timelines divide

Destruction takes the form of war

And on a great ship is where I'll reside.


June 26, 2005


copyright © Lila May Guptill (AKA) Lunaria

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