A DEADLY STORM
Catch a pebble on it’s way down, loosened by footsteps that leave no sound, yet quietly abound on sunsets crown.
Beneath the hardened rock like clay mysteries, footsteps upon them play.
It’s a discordant moan some would say.
This sound has torn brave hearts away. This sound that has torn-this sound that has bourne, this sound a deadly storm today.
When Synapses Go Bad 