The perfect storm approaches,
pulls the strings, my strings.
I walk a path, light torches.
The storm is what love brings.
A thunder deafens birds momentously,
erases songs, all sounds at all.
It hits, then burns tremendously
and all that stands shall fall.
There is the cyclone, spins around.
Scatters wits with none of force.
All matter crumbles to the ground,
all planets change their course. ...