Rushing words

A rushing wind
roaring strong
across broad land
bearing all away

black clouds overhead
like rolling hillsides are
monochrome colors lost
a barren landscape seen

jagged lightning flashes down
as mighty thunder roars
a cannonade of the gods
sharply strikes the land

sharply slashes hard raindrops down
as if to tear the flesh
stripping it from bones beneath
baring forth the soul

and the soil is churned up
and splashed on everything
filth that is by rains brought
and cannot be washed away

sharp that sounds that you hear
carried upon the wind
and crashing all around
till you are overwhelmed

ripping winds would bear away
the fragile thoughts you have
stealing forth the very breath
that barely you can take

mighty power nature has
feeble man cannot withstand
standing before it's power bare
his tools cannot bear sway

man's breath most feeble is
cannot the clouds move
and his fire made with sticks
cannot light the sky

in the quiet of his caves
in the dark of night
by the glowing of fires light
of his power he dreams

of the glory of his tools
and of his knowledge great
of the world how he will change
and bend it as he would

but as the earth shakes and rolls
and as the mighty wind blows
flooding water washes away
all his feeble toys