Storm of grief

A storm arose in him
it whipped inside his blood
outside in the air
battling within and with out
as he stood on the rain-slicked rock

The name of the storm was grief

It was grief that flashed in his eyes
bold and as blue as lightening strikes
Rage spit from his fingertips
jagged red that split the air with thunder-caps
echoing like a thousand cannon shots

He thrust his staff high
shouted out words of magic
red bolts of his rage
and the bitter blue of of the storm
clashed overhead in a war

Rock rang, and water of the sea
went black as the mouth of hell
and still he raged
and still he grieved

The rain fell from the wounded sky
red as the split blood
With the bloody rain soaking his cloak
running down his face like death's tears
as he dared both heaven and hell