The Storm Builds. Poem by Derrick Andrews

Black snakes coil, around the stake of discontent.
White flames consume your soul, and force you, into lament.

Anguish rings, the blue jay sings,
It's a beautiful charade.
It will bring, the reckoning,
From under icy shade.

There isn't hope for anyone who walks the fatal path.
Even through the peaceful times, you will feel its wrath.

You can't appease the melodies,
That echo out through time.
The gentle breeze that taunts the seas,
Will build typhoons in time.