The flashing of the vibrant skies,
voices speaking from the clouds,
glorious passion streaming,
the beauty of the sky in bloom
before the onslaught of the storm,
thunders fliers dressed in silk robes,
riding on chariots on fire,
heralds from the land of Thor,
the high God of the nadir heavens,
beautiful deadly riders
striking at will at the fragile earth
in acts of demolition
with the power and strength
to lift up the planets,
level the trees with their razor teeth,
a flashing moment of terror,
the Reaper lighting up the forest,
the all powerful running rampant,
 
thunder fliers in their glory,
clapping their boisterous hands,
beating their chests,
singing victory songs,
standing over the
graves of their victims,
looking at the smoldering forest,
the ashes of the once vibrant trees,
 
then returning to the skies
and waiting for the storms
to send them back down again.

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