It's just a
fact
beyond interpretation,
light falls
and
lightning crashes,
things that could
never
spark war
of result
in
revolution.
So I'll battle
with
the existence
of horizons
beneath
thick ashy
skies,
dancing
in rivulets
down
smile lines
splashing
to the
constant
asphalt.
The glimmer
of revolution
melts
as the
valley
endures long
vacuous
winter,
revolution
that both
spills
and
crashes.