before the deluge,

greying clouds congregate – rumble and roll,

casual, merciless, oblivious,

self assured of sprinkling hope,

over us all …

if we are willing,
to be able to endure,

though besieged by the torrents of fate,

assaulted as time idly shambles past,

skewering the memories once betrayed,

destined to eternally last,

while drowning,


going under,

diving deep beneath,

the tides of mishmashed grumbles,

lost in a numbed haze,

of unfinished mumbles,

all promising cascades,

of dazzling hues,

amidst strawberry shades,

while wills crumble,

and all resolve fades …