The clouds aren't angry,

Only full.

The sadness that consumes them

Flows over and through,

And washes down

Through morphing skies,

Changing into unknown beauty.

Greens greener,

And blues more bright,

And rampaging lights

That split the sky

Of the darkened mind,

Making room for lightning and beauty

Come from the gathering stranded

That are not angry;

They are only full

Of everything we've ever felt.