Thunder and rain crashing around me, lightning flashing,
Angels grieving the Morning Star's fall.
So much depends
the shining north
surrounded by twilit
overhead the wandering
A poem should be veiled and opaque
It's meaning not to eliminate,
Clear but shifting like waters
Drifting from the mountain depths
Flowing, moving turning the bend,
Never knowing what's truly ahead,
A glimpse, a glance,
The possibility to see endless chance.
Show wisdom and truth,
But all at once appearing aloof.