That which turns and twists and curls, Like a dream away it burns. Thus when clouds are o'ercast, Heavy rain seems like a must.

That which burns and weeps and sighs, Like the sky, it always cries. Thus when silent words are said, Water turns to viscous red.

Through and out-from flew the star, Broke the chains and flew afar. In the heavens, angels sad Since they'd lost aught they once had.

And the sky, once more it tears Bringing forth your darkest fears. As another waits in line Just to follow... like the blind...

Nicholas Triarchos