BGeneric

Part 1

The angry clouds stir for the storm
Vents release
And
Explode
I watch the thunder with awe
What will be torn away?
What will remain?
In the wind twisting rotting limbs
Empty buildings boarded up for the storm
Ripped open and
Left behind to be studied by anthropologist and poets
I know what the poet would say
This is happens when the world spins and spins and spins
And someone yells
“Stop”