The Storm

A flash. A split second. Just a moment in time.
Then the dark, encompassing all.

The darkness boils from within. The anger palpable.
Will be stopped by nothing nor allow passage beyond.

Only occasional flashes as angst and hate spill over.
Spearing and piercing the black with wicked slash of light.

The light is just an illusion. Let it not fool you.
Not light. Not an escape from the dark.
An extension of the malice. Slicing through to strike.

Guttural voices emit from the surrounding blackness.
Rumbles of anguish and spite seeping from within.
Echoing despair and malevolence.

Seething with wickedness, it builds.
Growing until the sorrow of all whom it has wounded
Pours in a torrent from the soul of the gloom.