Subjective Meteorological Irony Poem by Monos Unalos

The rain clouds have materialized
Drowning out the light
In soft tapestries of gray and gloom
Portent of a green respite.
Wearily it seems to eyes,
Orbs of human minds,
That this gray entelechy
Pervades through all its witnessed time.
But is this the truth?
What my eyes and mind have found,
Or is this dreary garment worn
A harbinger of brighter sound.
For indeed, though the sky is torn
And murky, painted doom
There awaits within the visage
The seeds that shall awake life’s bloom.