The Storm and the Mountains
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Uneasy air,
Smell of danger,
And wind is upon the land,
In a sudden rage.
All are cowed;
Rendered fragile.
Under an erupting sky,
Only fear can be known.
Even the fierce ones,
Fall under a black sky.
Few are the storms,
That thirst not for blood.
Roar of the storm,
Scream of the wind,
They, too die.
A lonely sunbeam fights the gloom
Silence.
And again, the mountains can be seen.