The smell
It's of wet soil
The wind is playing with my hair
There is a distant Harmony of the THUNDER clapping in the sky
The breeze yet strong
The sky is shedding lights
It's day no its night
Wait, the trees
They are also gliding with the night
Teg buildings standing straight and behind it
It's the day arising
The thunder growls and along with that the wind rejoice
It's cold and pricking my sink
I saw that...wait did I just saw that
There were bolts of thunder playing
Inhabitant less, no noise, no chirps and no voice.
It's just me and the woman on the terrace
It's all that I can see
It's gloomy, it's cold, it's dark and goth
But that's the thing that I want to immerse in
Amidst the dewey lightning
YOU ARE READING
Echoing Abyss
PoetryExploration of the human experience, where the unseen depths of the soul are illuminated through the power of language.
