Storm (day 1897)

Picture if you will
And together in a spell
From the start it was a myth
And you cried as if unearth
My tonic was the birth
To last unlike death
Gathering wind
Gathering storm
Gathering the eyes
Of ten thousand hungry men
Entrapped, entranced
In a stately march
Will I live alone?
Will I seek a heart?
And to the end
I collapse once again
Longer then our wind
Thicker then our storm
And then all at once
Dropped, it was to end.

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