Peace sweeps through the alter,
On one stormy eve.
But, pray tell, what reprieve –
Could bless such scorched earth, that I do walk?
As I do sing, the winds to sleep.
Once I failed,
Twice I caved.
And now, what new sins doth do creep?
Quieten my jaded voice,
And drench my skin in salty fears.
For now, I see no path for which I am meant to walk.
For now, I see no action, for which I am meant to fake.
Only for now, I say I am done.
A small reprieve, for this liar’s sake.
(featured image taken on a clear day before the storm)