Fractured Skies

©2026 steve gray

Bruised, charcoal clouds swell and choke the horizon.

The season shifts like shifting glass, sharp and cold.

A suffocating stillness hangs before the downpour.

Suddenly, the rain slams down, stabbing the earth.

Our world is informed by trauma, we need to survive.

Through the torrent, a burning intent cuts the dark.

Answers do not whisper; they strike like lightning.

Be true.

Our world is entertained by intrigue; we want to thrive.

The storm roars a relentless interrogation:

What next?

What works when the foundations splinter?

What sings solidly against the howling wind?

Only the raw, unyielding truth seems to survive the crash.

Pure intent becomes a shield in the static.

Stand fast in the debris.

Respect the fractured self.

Respect the bleeding world.

Hold true to thyself, be anchored deep in the bedrock.