Booms, crackles, and quakes�
sounding through the night,
like tribal drums, calling out to their victim,
impending doom, beating to a satanistic dance,
houses suffer, and the Earth\'s soil willows.
Black outside, except for that hail,
the pounding hail, thick as snow on the ground,
like glowing eyes, peircing your vision, making you look away,
clanging on the roof in your ears,
like the rattling of chains.
Blackness,
inside and out,
this is a power outage.
In a dark time we live,
no light to lead us on,
except for a few burning cnadles,
fanding and melting as time passes,
like waves along the shore,
constantly receeding,
we see them�
and then they\'re gone...
Hope doesn\'t last forever,
and this light cannot prevail�
without that spark, that warm tender spark,
to ignite our hearts, and lead us down the shadowy paths,
through dark times we move,
in a power outage.
