And the heavens roar! Oh but do they cry for my loss?
They crack, thunder and pour.
Thus I lament for times lost.
Too late they were treasured, too hastily gone by.
Maybe, If the rain is kind my sorrow shall be washed away.
Crystal droplets may quench this pain and restore my youth.

But, should this be a cruel tempest?
To leave me as a rotten branch, struck by lightning so fierce.
Once what was so high above the ground now turned to ash.
Away forever from my root, like the moments I so carlessly tossed.
It seems the blanched sky will never cease to weep.
Perhaps it only mocks me for all my loss.