Soul Storm
Oh black the storm of the inner storm doth rage
and has for its seems a long and bitter hard age
let not the darkening winds torment the soul
in the bitter landscape of the spirit’s toll
Icy grip of ancient pains abound within
and scribed upon the soul its tale of sin
writ large in grey grief and bitter lines
such is the heart’s history in sure signs
Weep not, for none will care in the end
but stand tall and fall if need to mend
weave repair within your weft to fix it firm
before the final onset of the conquering worm