|[Baut Images: Rend the Wounded Sky II]|
Sharply castigating the sky,
The sharpened thistle's spears
Strike upward at the thinkening clouds.
Dark swords against the gray,
They slash and tear
And rend the wounded sky.
Lightning crackles downward,
Striking the thistle's swords
As blood rain falls on unhallowed ground.
These are the days,
That have been prophesized
When the land is torn asunder.
The battle in nature has begun,
A last desperate hope
To restore balance on Planet Earth.
Roger Allen Baut
Please note: This is in 'triplet' form of image, poem and music video.