The I of the Storm

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Water Colours

Great is the grief that floats upon the heart
Made whole in weeping red and hopeless gray.
Love finds its colours in truth without art.

The clay twists, stretches, slowly tears apart
Each breath, each tear, each small whisper that says
Great is the grief that floats upon the heart.

Much we lose and much forsake ere we part
And start to live our lies in artful gray.
Love finds its colours in truth without art.

Ungentle truth carves slowly, like God’s art,
And blades of reason do not, for pity, stay.
Great is the grief that floats upon the heart.

Smile through fire; let sighs, like storms, hide the smart
That, like loveless wheel, shapes colourless clay.
Love finds its colours in truth without art.

No vessel fit there ever is, to chart
Gray dreams in eyes that once could pray.
Great is the grief that floats upon the heart.
Love finds its colours in truth without art.

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