[center][b][i]The running Storm [/b][/i][/center]



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Call the name into existence
It is our living storm
This being goes on and on, speaking allegiance 
It tunes the rhythm, as it strikes the floor
The crackles catch themselves at a glance
Some burst among us sneaking under Seline forms
Others weep around as the static clasp

It forms V claws and flat V fangs
A cuddling born of terror from amassed berate
Not of the confused passion is something abusing
Long bright days on the ground made them think
To love and lost is a feeling of something
To know no losing or concern might make lighting bleak

Pass the lions and birds of prey- the dominant packs
Some have to probate and challenge the storm as beasts
Proving to retribution to take it back
Signing the lost name in dirges, elegies, and effigies
Among these is that creeping familiar swinging flack
An honest friend on a cloudy day turning tort stories

As thin threads of hope make lightning
Illuminate the feeling
Even as a stranger with an eye storming
Contrast the roaring 
It will pour cats and dogs, it`ll get boring
Still, steer clear of becoming a burning green housing

Once the name has been cast 
Things like rage and sadness can pass
Things like blind outrage may not chase some sun`s task
Tilted curves and thick hail edges should drop at last
Temperance one day can give the bearer a pleasant bass
But understand: This is more than a point about running too fast
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