The Storm is Over

If I were to die today, I think I would be content with my life.

A shower of radiance through the rain-ripped heavens
Augments the incandescent laugh of my heart:
No more do the merciless skies ravage this Earth.
As the holocaustic tempest of the During rumbles off the island of my sight
I stand in the light of the End; I am once again at peace.
 
Even the infinitely blank landscape of my mind
Cannot comprehend the momentous monstrosity
Which my unworthy self was granted sanctuary through.
These two eyes, eternal guardians of the gateway to all that I am
Watched on in helpless misery of the unseen, silent, all-seeing mourner,
Their weeping adding taste to the torrent flowing across two quivering lips.
  
Horrors I did behold, which my chest dares not emancipate from its clutches.
Each branch of searing light did smite those unfit to fight;
The subsequent thunder carving monuments of mountains,
Each dedicated to the loss of some poor soul. Many did I beckon,
To save the precious, fragile flame of life from the Reaper's icy breath
And some came. Others nearly dragged me into the infinite abyss with them.
 
The Beginning brought the first winds, and the sight of a black horizon,
The During, an apocalyptic cleansing of the stain of sins past,
A hellish parasite envenoming the lifeblood of this Earth.
Now the End is here, for the radiant Sun has returned;
Now the storm is over; I may finally rest.

The End

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