Creation - happiness

The night is washed away by rain ,
In the game of color , the black is mixed
                                   with white's illusive refrain .
The storm arrives rumbling it's way
                                                   into the dark recess ,
While the silence reigns the hollow of life
                               making explicit the voice's face .

Dominates the refrain of the voice in air
                                 piercing the magic of storm .
It's magic indeed , which persuades the soul
                                 to destroy the shadow's form .
It sways the crown like a mad pachyderm ,
Nobody blames you while the immaculate storks'
                               taking to wings meant no harm .

They flip wings to cross the river , the pale of the land .
They are free to obey the self -dictate
                                           wearing no prisoner's band .
They confront the sun and view the landscape of the moon .
They emerge as winners deserving the award - the boon .

The night is washed away by rain ,
The surrounding silence is disturbed
                                             by the downpour's refrain .
The dark -hole is washed by the flash of light
                                                       that deluges the sky ,
Do you conjure up apocalypse
               as a sign of creation-happiness that stands by .

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