The cracked valley floor
And jagged tops of mountains
Are both
The spectators and arena.
Eyes all around us.
You sound your entrance
With a warm gust
From the North,
Speaking in sleet.
I am the low roar
On the horizon.
I've come dressed as storm clouds,
Colored in darkness.
I speak with lightning.
I'll defend my words
With thunderclaps,
Because I'm not doing this again.
I've learned my lesson
Through shock treatment.
These conversations
Can get so electric.
So this time
I'll raise my voice
And wake the Earth,
Because right here
Is where I take a stand.
Two fronts don't have to collide
From now 'til infinity.
Perfectly destructive.
Perfectly endless.
Rather...let's end this.
While I cherish these
Whirlwind talks,
They're making me nauseous.
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