Wicked Specialist iv

when it rains it pours unending torrents of pain poured out again and again till all feeling is gone all that remains a soaking wet sucked up thump numb stump phantom pains lay where once lied useful limbs tied tried tired attached atrophied by constant effortless neglect let thunderstorms come pouring rain sweeping away autumn leaves on trees with weakened roots forcing the strong to bend in rhythmic sway tsunamis wash away every indelible name etched in sand in the hour glass of time never remembered by all except we who cherish memories held unable to let go do you think the dead watch over us she asked tossed to and fro on wavy waters in pendulum swing violent silent looming dark clouds overhead casting not a glimpse of sun in sight hiding from all hidden for what seems an eternity howling wind swirling in circles screaming for lost children nowhere to be found ground aches pregnant pains begging coaxing coercing seed to come forth fruit bearing trees with leaves that provide shade the day comes when sun shines so bright we pray once again for days of rain over us casting no shadows burning so bright all become one with glow basking in embers that change all into firebrand her fire brands our every waking moment till dark falls again upon us reminding us of pain aching bones signaling the passage of time’s illusory seasonal changing weather patterns as the world runs around the sun in play too far away from his brothers to catch the distance glimpse of other worlds spun in webs to catch butterfly children filled with naive hope straying too far away from home a ghost who boasts of time passed with lost glory responsible for happy accidents that cannot be repeated but remain forever told by the coward who lives to tell the stories of heroes too bold to think through actions that result in their extinction save the greater good that all may experience that life has to have the glory of stories unfold in the mind of the man who sits alone on throne made of stone

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