An Impending Storm

I seem to recall a similar cauldron of desperation
again—it feels like an immense storm is brewing
heavy ashen skies are sweeping up my colors
absorbing me in its brushes of thin gripping air
smudging sparks of hope into gales of trepidation
choking its gloom into long—flustering futures

outlands of hope are bound in languishing vapors
steel anvils of its amassing cumulonimbus grip
ferociously gulping up swills of smoke and fire
strangulating life in virtual dominions of shame
defaming us in thunderous electrifying words—
toxic, fearsome, heavy, and asphyxiating words

lonely—tarnished leaves whirl in a windy vortex
stranded by powers beyond their delicate control
drives dividing truth and knowledge into fears
and social injustice—howling on hoary tempests
vowing to thrive—to endure—in fumes of fury
but beyond a mountain’s silver blade stands hope

where damps of darkness are wrung into light
vaporizing the clouds and the shameless crowds
parting in its silent wake bold rainbows of hope
beaming spectrums of every conceivable color
that embrace the meek and the peacemakers
within its tender mercy of a far brighter day

nobler hearts will pump clean airs and waters
through glowing fibers of a fresh body of life
where we can again be drawn to one sure hope
one with more flawless tenacity and purpose—
one where we look beyond ourselves for power
basking in warm visions of pure—sanctified love