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Thunderstorms
At the cusp of dusk, they billow in,
Great black beasts, gravid and wroth;
They devour the moon they devour stars,
Thundering across the celestial sphere.
Roaring eruptions and lambent light –
A bacchanal of Babeldom.
Eden fire pierce, fierce, incisive stabs;
Instantly illuminating,
As the black beasts birth torrents.

© Rodwin A. Tyndall