A Broken Light Spin

O man’s tempest hand draw its brutal anger
On the face of a thinner squall, yet a gentle fair,
Up above the sky you’d see a revolting air;
it brought down wrath of nature, no solitary care,
it sprawls that frenzied trees down shore.

A cumber sludge hit that plain spindled ray,
while a melody heated, a whistle of air strife;
While jack swing’s a lullaby, birds sung a cry!
Woe smells in drop of rain, flood the streets alike;
if one wishes, they would fare a loathsome hike.

Oh how tremulous lightning to draw a view,
It spins in heaven, while land survived a straw;
You see cracks of slit where earthworms swell,
Left it all abound scrolling by its mouth’s bell,
Yet, it sparsely mean a life’s eventide spell.

Now their lofty swing hit a flinching loop,
Ignorance is a tool and a pen is abhorred;
yet supplication was their hand’s only hope,
Neither bears a string nor attains a stronghold,
To them bad is good, and good is a malediction.