I am a child of the dark, raging sky A sky with a motif to pour its insides below, as me.My simple, gentle tapping on the earth induces the beautiful birth of gentle, sweet flowers,  of sturdy,towering trees of nostalgia. I'm pretty good at silencing the world around me, A layer blurring the colors of life. I like my muffled, rhythmic tapping The popping, the clapping Against the wondrous, yet quiet home of the earth's dry dirt, waiting for my touch to be  fulfilled. I don't sing of the bright of life or the light from above. Because I am the cozy cry of nature Making nothing but love.I cast a thick, comforting gray hue upon the air. I believe that my articulate touch upon the dirt, the trees like buildings, flowers like my children, life around me becomes vivid, life around me thrives. The sky thinks I'm worthless, shameful, banishing me from its grasp.I come from the monstrous heap of gray, piling over the golden rays. I dream to touch the earth, the sweet, green grass.I want to be an element of the world.I don't comply to the authority of the sun. I'm going to run across the dry earth with competence, with liberation of the sky's loose hold. I've already freed myself from the nuisance of the clouds, falling as a teardrop. If you want to catch me, observe the darkness in the sky an ominous indication of my presence. Because I am a child of the raging clouds, the whispers of the storm.