Ballad of the Sturmgeist

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It starts with a drop
Two, three, four, five
They land quietly, a silent plop
The rain picks up, creating
A beat, the rhythem of nature
Forming, falling, watering
The clouds move fast, turning dark
As black as the night
Gathering in the sky, choosing their mark

The rain is heavy now
The crescendo of the storm
Loud as a drum, like a heartbeat you know
Light flashes in the distance
And forms a single, crooked stream
Only a second, then it condenses
Into quiet

The roar of the sky follows
Slightly off-cue
Shaking our souls hallows
Another flash above the forests
Followed by the rumbling bass of the storm
Rain fills the quiet, a chorus
Of nature

And the rain keeps falling.





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