Red Sky Morning

An icy morning breeze caresses my cheek under a crimson sky.
Shuddering vainly against the cold, I gaze out upon the stirring sea.
I stand vigil, watching, and waiting.
Clouds gather on the horizon, and my mind names them.

Ever shifting at the whim of the fickle wind, the clouds dance into various shapes.
Beautiful forms of hope set afire, warming my frigid soul;
Lovely patterns swelling a once lonely heart, holding promise for tomorrow;
Joyous silhouettes that quicken the soul, inspiring a delighted smile.

My mind bathes in the light of these things, and silently I rejoice.
A sudden gust of glacial wind stings at my ears, and I draw up my coat.
Soon the sea begins to roil, and ravenous clouds swallow the sun.

Under an ominous sky, the clouds roll into darker forms.
Shadowy specters wrenching tears from my eyes, and joy from my heart;
Visions of dreams inspired, only to be dashed upon the rocks;
Memories of love turned to cold indifference, and lost upon remorseless waves.

My heart is burdened by these things, and I long to look away.
Alas, I must fulfill my purpose.
I must watch, and I must wait.
And these things I do.

Distant thunder rolls onto shore with a promise, and so I mark the direction of the wind.
Clouds continue to gather, ever dancing, ever shifting, and my mind names them.
Their name is Change,
And they are coming.