Squall
The storm is unpredictable,
Unstable and afraid.
Trust cannot be lightly bestowed
And in the gray of morning
It cannot be revoked.
The waters rage,
The sky shrieks with anger,
The lightning splitting
The furious sea,
Already bathed in foam.
Beating against the granite cliffs,
The storm hurls its wrath
Against the unmarked boundaries.
Dying to flood the earth
With all the love and fears unsaid,
It refines its power and anger,
Focuses the waves and the thunder
Into a hate beyond touch,
A single blade of ruthless destruction.
Outside, there is no display,
The face remains cold, unfeeling.
Inside his battle is pitched
And his heart is tainted
By the blood of his own dead beliefs.
No tentative hold will stay his hand
Nor friendship lightly offered
Defeat the squall
That he cannot quite hide.
Alone in the darkness
He must light his own way,
Seek the arms of an angel
Or die another day.
May petals enfold him,
Hold him in the night;
Show him the dawn
And break the strength of the dark.
Only love can guide him,
Give him the strength to carry on,
For no one can face the
Storm all alone.