Raiders of the Currents
Raiders from polar regions survey the
currents in the easy listless skies
with disruptive thoughts running through
their belligerent minds,
getting ready to go to war and stake
their claim on the lower regions of the sky.
Air of saturated venom and frigid hands,
dressed in dark grey uniforms
riding upon their steeds with spiked hooves
and armed with razor sharp claws,
drifts into the languid azure spaces that let
the sunshine in and clouds up the air
with its frigid breath and mingles with the
placid air that sits in the sky.
Then they fire up their ovens to churn
the pistons that drive their war machine,
sending sparks to light up the night sky,
jagged flashing lines shooting out of the
mouth of the war dragons
with crackling sounds like cannons blasting,
beautiful chaos, beautiful passion unleashed,
fortissimo pounding of the symphonic night,
language of the Thunder Gods in song,
shaking the earth with their unearthly voices
shouting;
“Hallelujah to the glory of the passion,
to the conquest of the languid skies, as
chanted by the raiders of the languid currents.”
Preferido o celebrado por...
