The Desk.

Piercing through the mist I see

The Tempest’s eyes, so deep and soft,

His fiercest gaze doth rest on me,

As if the storm could set me free.

Beyond the lightning, endless blue,

The Tempest sky, so deep and soft,

In drifting clouds and azure hues,

A bearded face that I once knew.

Rolling through the swamp I hear,

The Tempest’s voice, so deep and soft,

Which even when the end was near,

Could shake the ground, but still the fear.

Steady now I lay me down,

In Tempest’s arms, so deep and soft,

Take comfort in the thund’rous sound,

And rest at ease, on thund’rous ground.