He knocked on Death’s door, a bouquet in his hand

Hoping for a glimpse of that feared nether-land

To see the face of a loved one, just one last smile

But he hoped in vain. Death’s house is exile.

And so, Death grinned before slamming the door

Leaving red petals strewn all over the floor

“What a mess,” Death thought, before grabbing a broom,

And, within a few moments, he’d cleaned up the room

He dumped the petals outside, to blow out with the wind

But the man stood there watching, angry with this sin

He’d spent two years walking, braving wind, sun, and rain

With the hope that he would gain some relief to his pain

One good-bye is all he asked for, and yet that was denied

He was too angry to be sad, too furious to cry

Yet he had to release his anger some in way

So he threw his head back, and screamed all his anger away

And he ran back to Earth, fury high on the wind

Embracing a new life far sweeter than sin

Even now you can hear him screaming his pain

After every crash of lightning, beating through the rain


One thought on “Thunder Formed

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