From The Skies

Drops of rain ripple the black water,
Silent trees sway in the falling night.
Through supple leaves sifts moonlight gray,
The eastern horizon is burning bright.

The melting snow on the mountain tops,
Welcomes a morn cold and gray.
As the sky ignites in an orange hue,
The darkness begins to fade.

Dew drops wets the greenest grass,
As the sun skims over mountains white.
The forest awakens from a slumber long,
And the river flows through terra bright.

But then a humless drone is heard,
And the sky is filled with angels of fire.
On iron wings they blot the sun,
And from their hearts their children fall.

Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds,
The reaper of sorrows, through the dark of day.
An infector of souls, the corrupter of life,
I fall to destroy the Earth's own child.

And then I strike the Earth's very soul,
Spread fire and smoke a mile wide.
Barren will I leave the once green land,
And perish in flames in mirthless delight.

And true to his word the children were,
As fire scorched the dying Sun.
Rain falls again from a shattered sky,
And drowns the distant hum.