A Prayer to the Storm God / עדן קופרמינץ

To say that you, blessed father, bless us
with your tears is an insult, an insult
to the years. Once; where lands were empty
of man, your voice still rumbled
across the fields.

To cry to you, blessed mother, to heed us
with your embrace is to belittle, to belittle
our fears. Once; where no shelter was given
to man, your bosom still held
our cries.

To rage against you, storm god, is to know
futility, futility of love. Where no end was known
of man, your arms found us; once.

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