The Fury 2

Once her fury is spent,
The anger no more to vent.
She glides away to high,
Among her steeds in a tranquil sky.
She is no longer the Fury.
She rises and paws at the clear air,
Weeping tears of how unfair,
That her rage had gained control,
Allowing wounds to unfold.
She sorrows; she is no longer the Fury.
She sees the rawness upon her land,
The churned surge of her sea on the shore's sand,
She sees the wind's twisted havoc,
And weeps to be so savage.
She grieves, she is no longer the Fury.
Then the tears, as healing rain,
Wash away the raw pain,
Spiral in cascades of clear water falling,
Christening the devastation appalling,
With the love of her caring nature,
Returning to her serenity with renewed rapture.
She is no longer the Fury.

Her seas flow in lullaby rhythm,
No longer past driven,
But as the golden light breaks through,
Her hope and joy return once more true.
What of the past day is gone to memory,
Where it will stay closed to all eternity.
She is no longer the Fury,
But is the Mother Nature of the world's sweetest purity.


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