Grey sky huddled, hunched across horizon’s brow,
as if to claim sovereignty, insist the hours be drawn,
in sombre tones, muted, faded, feeble shades;
reflecting sorrows touch, which held my mind.
As within and so without, as above then so below,
the day did weigh in full and pregnant belly on me,
as if to say there would be no escape, no reprieve;
a world turned dark and grim, with no hope seen.
Yet swallowed in the clouds of suckling rains,
there breathed new dreams of what could surely be,
and in the drenching sigh of grief at last released,
did time full rent the threads on fate’s old seams.