The Storm

And in the sky, I chased a Storm,
My eyes scanned its might.
It blows from the West;
A gift from the Watchtower,
Whose healing powers are suppose
To carry a cleansing rite:
Upon the back of The Storm
Sits the energy and passion of the Gods.
Thor, provides the Thunder, and,
Zeus, the Lightning,
And together celebrate the gift of Water
And rain it down on Gaia's gentle face.
But Gaia's face burns at the touch of this gift.
The healing touch of the rain no longer cleanses as it once did.
Man has undid what the forces of nature created,
In his folly to be likened to a God.
The hubris of Man's greed
Has tainted the gift from the West.
Now the rains no longer bring a healing touch.
And the Storm still rages on.