Beryl Rush
The high wind roars across lily’s street,
A wild force, unbound, untamed,
It sweeps through trees with fierce disdain,
Their branches bent, their leaves inflamed.
It howls through valleys, over houses,
A voice of power, raw and free,
It dances with the storm it seeks,
A symphony of wild decree.
It stirs the seas to rolling waves,
And drives the clouds in frenzied flight,
It whispers secrets in dark caves,
And rules the sky both day and night.
Yet in its rage, a beauty lies,
A testament to nature’s might,
A force that lifts, and terrifies,
And fills the world with awe-struck light.
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