It was upon the ghast chateau
the cliffs which now are safe and known
but then were silent kings
he stood, to watch the water
stood to watch his love
the storm befriending all his rage
but he still could not deny
the peaceful burning laid inside
it was grief, so rash and terrible
floating in upon the waves
black and deep they sieged the cliff
to the giant drum of thunder
though at pinnacles they left him
a numb betrayal of his thoughts
as black and deep as those that pounded
so incessantly below him
such clouds as only could conspire
booming gods, almost indifferent
such black and grey and white
swirling to one gigantic form
as though a shrouded chariot approached him
and then another from the East
swift and divinely resolute
these gods were met in battle
swords and cracking whips
white cannons flashing through the dark
rain and tears and spray resounding
a blood which dripped from wars above
or as the weeping mourn of angels watching
the loved and feared unfurl their power
such clouds and no stars
soon weeping waned and canons spent
though his agony remained
more tired now than terrible
he fell upon his hands and knees
on grass so cold and wet
but sleeping just the same
and still the battering below
she'd watch him now, if clouds would part
frustratingly peaceful amidst the storm
even despite his somber longings
hate was slowly fading from him
like water flowing from him chest
soon buried in the earth
with a slower, deeper breathing
he had come to fall and meet her
but her hands caressed him, even now
a soothing sigh within his wound
open still and vaguely stinging
his pride, deceived, had given way
to a healer's touch
