Chalk the Cliffs
Chalk the cliffs in gloomy light,
With cloaking blackness o’er,
Thunderclaps a sharp affright,
Beneath the winter shower.
Stark the skiff upon the waves,
As winds pronounce their curse,
Looking for the God that saves,
In tempest waxing worse.
Silver tinted rafts of sun,
And breakers rippling white,
Lightning cracking like a gun,
And cast prodigious bright.
Here our party shelters long,
Below the sandy slope,
Verily a haunted throng,
And well bereft of hope.
Marking now the banshee wind,
The terrors in the sky,
Cold as ice and sore chagrined,
With madness in our eye.
Only elemental doom,
Our future scripted bleak,
Cast to hell, our tempers fume,
With spirits loathe to speak.
Come, ye catatonic rage!
Ye destiny in black!
Anger strewn upon the stage,
And fate in wry attack…
adamdaniel 