The Rage Against the Dying of light

My first ever poem, on the Gothic conception of the sublime of nature.

Let there be fear for th' dying of light,

for now my world fails into wrathful night.

Th' sky now roars as it is torn apart,

by violent clouds that churn as thunders start.

By violent tempests are the heavens caged,

for there is the madness of the welkin staged.

Th' angered waves crash above as the skies flood,

Rending asunder this sea of thunder and blood.

Land is lashed by th' untamed heaven's tears,

Engulfing it 'till all is left are fears.

Torrents of wind howl in terrored screams,

Tearing my world asunder by it's seams.

Th' skies now burn in a swirling inferno dark,

Consuming this world and his feeble spark.