9.4.10

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