quick sketch of a storm

the sea turns to stone
beneath the weight of darkling clouds
gathering to swallow the distant islands
which occupy a soon to be mythical horizon

trees bow to the east;
it isn't reverence,
it's deference to the prevailing wind
whose persistence has the power to mould
in the imperfect image of
influence

wet black becomes electric blue
through faction friction
and then fades to black again

greys insinuate lies of constancy and consistency
only a fool believes;
their seemingly common aegis
hides a monochromic rainbow
of infinitely diverse character traits