Disasters are beautiful.
The way they come tip-toed
Without giving any clue.
Then screaming and thrashing all around
As if fed up of own expectations
Or maybe lost in their own dreams?
Letting go off the burdens,
Crying heavy thunders of betrayal
And bursting off rage as lightening.
Scattering death and collecting lives
As if creating a museum of
Screaming and thrashing all around
With thumping pace
And then leaving suddenly,
With a vengeful smile, Clearing the skies.
Disasters are beautiful. Aren''t they?