The ground, swells up to meet the blood sky
When all the birds fall without the ability to fly
And a momentous calm concedes to the fray
As the madness of a force descends into play.
Walk with a calm footing on the volatile land,
The time of eternal regrets is always at hand,
Every noise does not ergo make a loud wrong
Sometimes the sounds are able to make a song
With a quiet defiance the background dominates
The player oblivious to what it is that capitulates,
Pieces of the puzzle brought together exemplify,
The hurts of that which are late to ever quantify-
That every storm is a beginning which does signify,
The metamorphosis of powers which ever multiply.