Incoming Storm at Nash Point
A stoic rock, a lonely sentinel, Against the storm, its form will not repel. Sunlight, a blade, cuts through the cloudy fray, Illuminates the battleground this day.
A pool reflects, a mirror at its feet, The heavens' clash, where light and darkness meet. Sun's golden spear, a warrior's final stand, Against the dark, a threatening, grasping hand.
The air is charged, a symphony of might, A brewing storm, a coming of the night. Though shadows creep, the rock will firmly stay, A silent witness to the coming fray.
A stoic rock, a lonely sentinel, Against the storm, its form will not repel. Sunlight, a blade, cuts through the cloudy fray, Illuminates the battleground this day.
A pool reflects, a mirror at its feet, The heavens' clash, where light and darkness meet. Sun's golden spear, a warrior's final stand, Against the dark, a threatening, grasping hand.
The air is charged, a symphony of might, A brewing storm, a coming of the night. Though shadows creep, the rock will firmly stay, A silent witness to the coming fray.