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It started as a small, inky black
speck on the horizon. 
Not threatening or ominous,
a peripheral presence 
most often passed over.
Living moved forward,
the roller coaster of
busy and not
moving toward another year.
Like a plague of locusts,
the darkening grew,
pestilence on the wing.
Heralded by a downburst,
the immense weight of
the burden spread,
blotting out the sun
and stars.
With lightening and 
thunder,
it will finally blast apart,
opening into the
infinite light
of Peace.
Categories: Poetry