A malevolent storm whipped through the seams

Of pendulous trees and volcanic ghosts,

Where serenity balanced between hesitations

And in the spaces of vacant omens.

When the deluge fell,

I sensed the manifestation of defeat,

Within a solemn understanding,

The perpetual bleak,

The cycle of grief,

The desire of transformation,

It is all a false expectation.

As the tumultous storm builds,

The leaves of reflection and vibrant progress

Is shattered and broken,

Among the slivers of wood,

Among the flood of ice,

Within unseen cracks of an impossible foundation,

To lay in ruins in a dull gray of conjecture.

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