Beneath the darkened, churning skies,
The wind begins its mournful cry,
As clouds converge in mighty force,
A storm is born, its wild discourse.
The lightning splits the heavens wide,
A fleeting fire, a guiding light,
While thunder roars in fierce reply,
A symphony of nightâs dark might.
The rain descends in sheets of grey,
Each drop a tale of distant day,
It whispers secrets to the earth,
Of life and death, of joy and mirth.
And in the heart of tempestâs rage,
Nature writes on an endless page,
A story old as time itself,
The storm, a book upon the shelf.