Sky Fire
Sky fire,
oh beautiful, beautiful lightning bolts
and booming trumpets of the ensuing storm,
the fruits of the Thunder Gods,
born out of fear and wonderment
from the womb of Mother Nature
for the sacred propagation of life,
but also the harbingers from
the Temples of Hades,
the inversion of heaven and hell,
the madness of the electric sky,
hymns of the dark angels,
out of rhythm rhythms of the aerial drums,
the language of the capricious spirits,
the skirmishes of the iron-clad clouds
at war with each other with
their nervous twisting and spasmodic bursting,
the racing of the torches from sky to earth,
the gilded spume of the sky dragons,
the heated swimmers in the flashing currents
dressed in yellow and white
and jagged costumes,
the ones who fly with the speed of sound
and live in passion colored cannons,
who speak from their amplified lungs
and live in the power of nature unleashed
and forever convey the moods of Mother Nature
as she speaks and runs out of control.
But let them be as they are the passion
of the docile, the beauteous, the wild,
and the ushers of the ensuing rainbows.
