Bebo

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	Shelter:
	Shelter: “This is no honeymoon picture postcard, I’m sending from the battle lines” The rain is falling in torrents As the wind whips around the weathered clifts. Darkness is shattered bye the bolts of fire Blasts from the heavens. Followed with the hollow Snarling in the night. The violent dance on the island of emerald. The turbulent seas crash and tear the shoreline. High above the horizon of the sea. Ruins of Dunluce sit, Being beaten by the weather. As the rain smashed itself upon its rocks. I sit upon the sodden ground. Soaking in the rain and mud. Watching streams of watter run through the patches of grass. Down the rocks of old. Through the grating to the dark hold That held Christians of old. The rain keeps coming And I keep sitting here. Not sure if Im crying Or if its just the rain on my face. The pain inside Makes the rain mean nothing As the chill wind passes through my think clothing Chilling my bones. There is no shelter anymore. This grand castle is laid barren and waste. No roofs remain to cover my pathetic form. Centuries and ages ago. In a far distant time This was grand Full of life and love But that time is long gone And I lay here like a man lost in the past Not wanting it to be over Longing for the grandeur of bygone days. Of long forgotten March. They say the Amaranth never fades Never withers or wilts. How do they explain this one? I don’t know what I’m to do now. As I sit here in the downpour of life In this relic of better days By the turbulent waters of the western sea And the green fields Being beaten to mud Behind me. These rocks offer no cover As slowly I become one with the mud. For there is no telling what is to come For now there is no end to the rain. And for now there is no shelter. *The first two lines, in ("), are from the song "Shelter" by the band Celtus*
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