The Sky Above Weeps.

By Jay St John Knight.

The sky above weeps.

Bloated rain drops

Languidly roll down glass sheets,

Like crystalline beetles

Scurrying and

Hurrying.

Outside, people ebb

And flow like shoals of fish.

Scintillating streams

Pouring down streets

With a canvassed sheen;

Spilling out into town and country.

A deluge.

Their waves crash down with a sound

Like towers of fragile flutes

Toppling to the ground,

Countless grey faces reflecting

In the foam of all the all-consuming,

Unrelenting.

Yet somewhere, beyond sight,

Brilliant white birds soar:

A gliding reverie

In a clear swept azure.

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