Some winds howl with cruel delight and chase off warmth with ease;
haunting creatures of the night that wander where they please.

Others whisper, tempting fate with fairy tales and song;
secrets wrapped in silence wait for fools to sing along.

Harmless spirits having fun, like children, wild and free-
never hurting anyone... except in fantasy.

Then there blows a colder breeze every once and awhile;
slinking through the boughs of trees, making the shadows smile.

A rumble in the distance grows as darkness fills the sky;
storm clouds like a million crows - the void that learned to fly.

Wise men know the sound by heart - a deep, unsettling drone;
one that tears the air apart and rattles mortal bones.

In-between the silent scream and reckoning that follows,
something from a fever dream rises from earthly hollows.

Those who have the courage to stand tall and face the weather
might just catch a glimpse or two of light among black feathers.

Before the inky teardrops fall and swallow the horizon,
listen for a raven call and see what it arrives in.

A single moment flickering across eternity;
a silver thread of lightning strikes all who have eyes to see.

Witness not the flash itself, but what it illuminates;
see the storm inside yourself and what it radiates.

To deny the void within is worse than those who cower;
one wingsnap and quiet grin can ignite untold power.