Harbinger - 2010/08/13

Pellets of rain trample upon the ground
Without the visual there still is the sound
Dark reaches unveil their unknown depths
The extent of which is found only in death
Flood waters rise as the land is swallowed
Even as its inhabitants are sure to follow
Sun rays strike brilliantly and spawn hope
Yet none can be seen on this slippery slope
Words are wasted where primal urges will do
As compassionate logic is unbecoming of you

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