It was the wind

It was the wind becoming still
And litter settling, amid the rancour
Of the rain easing back to a trickle,
Hiding the bitterness of its sting
Among the malignant lights bearing down
On that pitiful street that I most remember.

And the silent roar of water
Stumbling to the drains
Wasting away and the thought
Of the great fall from heaven
As I looked to the stars
Seeing only the vast spaces
Where hell abides.

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