The Storm Of The Lonesome

The Storm Of the Lonesome



Waves lap at the shoreline in double time cadence
There's a storm on the horizon and it's pushing onto land
Bringing cold rain and a black fascination
To a desolate land where the people hurry and huddle into their cloaks

Some walk with eyes cast down
Oblivious of the slow moving maelstrom
The freshening breeze blows onto faces framed with greasy hair
And dirty hands wipe stains onto faces filled with tears

A sudden roar of thunder tells those who are still about
That they are too late to run from the storm
It rolls onto shore a living thing
Filled with hateful lightning and stinging hail

And still the lost souls wander aimlessly by
Windblown and complacent
Standing like targets for the shocks thundering down from above
never much caring whether they are hit or missed

They know that they won't be given such an easy reprieve
From a life so darkly filled
Heaven is not so kind to the lost ones
It only soaks and stings their skin and freezes their fingers

The loneliest among the people stand in the rain
And curse their luck or lack thereof
As storm clouds move on and the slicing rain suddenly lessens
It doesn't change a thing for them

As the storm moves away it is replaced with a sun even more desolate
For it's lack of hope despite the glowing promise of the orb
And wet and cold they move on in an aimless forward shuffle
Nowhere to go and nobody waiting to see them