The long desired dawn,

The long awaited sun

Rose surreal as golden-rod,

Broke the silence, and the storm;

Soft and quiet patters on,

The rain so mild-mannered;

While I ponder like the stars

The thundering and coloring

On a canvas grim and bold;

An art so blinding, even,

In the graven retrospect;

A thought so loud it smothers

The sobriety of peace;

Deafening the thunder cracks,

Ringing loud in aftermath.