![images](http://firstlightmachine.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/images2-150x32.jpg)
It came and roared from the deepest sky
From afar, and a shaken still;
Then cracked and shook and thundered by
And bent us, to its, will.
It framed its times of night and day
With a sky all cloaked with haze;
And carried its sound of deafening peace
Then buried it, in its maze.
It hid its pain in its folds of rain,
When sudden, it showed its glare;
Then plunged its pressured, timeless face
Within its spiraled, pure colored air.
![images](http://firstlightmachine.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/images2-150x32.jpg)
![images](http://firstlightmachine.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/images2-150x32.jpg)
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