Another crack shatters,

the still air outside,

my window is clouding.

I can hardly see anything,

placed an arms length from me,

but I know what's occuring.

There is a storm that is-

that has been- erupting,

for many ages.

The whisps of cotton,

are shriveled and black,

by the passing of time.

The flashes give me sight,

but unlike my wishes,

they are only alive momentairaly.

I'd like a fire,

some sign that's so bright,

it's nearly impossible to see.

Something to help this,

needless pounding disappear,

Like these once standing evergreens.

The violence goes on,

Until a knock on my door,

comes that will lead me away.

Out of this darkness,

Away from this blindness,

into the sun.