Almost creeping into full blown breath
Yet strangely rhyming with simple death
Is a storm brewing and breaking?
One that will leave the earth quaking?
What is the point here you ask?
Who conquers the fear, within this mask?
That spins wickedly with no end in sight
Bringing on evening, long before the night
Shadow play darts off into the horizon
Weighing upon the mind, ton by ton
Something angry begins to form
Rising up to the brink of a storm
That hints it may break some day
But when and where? It shall not say.