The Rain

[mackzmike]

Charcoal vapors permeated
salmon-colored skies,
thunder rumbled, rippled
and cracked the heavens,
flushing down a rain,
steady and insidious,
like madness.

The flowers drowned,
the trees grew heavy and saturated;
they flaked and crumbled
to the earth, like ashes.
Rain filled the lungs of children
who reached for elders
with shriveled hands
as water poured out their
noses, ears, and eyes.
They’re cries, ignored by hollow heads
that pounded
incessantly,
like ticking metronomes.
They prayed for the rain to stop,
and they killed all those who didn’t
pray as they did.

Torrents of rain beat the backs of giants
who struggled to uphold the foundation
of conglomerates;
they’re souls, crushed in the name of
greed; their epitaph,
banal slogans.
Streams and rivers and lakes and oceans
overfilled, and poured into
houses and towns and cities and states.
Countries declared war on the rain,
and fired rockets wildly into the heavens.
Debris filled the atmosphere with death,
and the eyes of the living became clouded, cold,
and deranged.
Savages, they divided,
and slaughtered one another,
until all that was left was
black smoke stacks that silently rose
to the sky.

The rain stopped.
Shallow gusts swept the floors
and buried the remains
of a fallen empire.
The sun beamed through dissipating clouds,
and it looked, blithely,
upon the earth,
and continued to burn.