Ark of the Lost Angels

Lightning _{(Credit: Yu Tang Brian Chan)}

Why can't days like this be more frequent?
Which stop the world,
Wash away some of its all too frequent sins,
Darkened middays and cleansing waters,
Which drum on rooftops,
And patter on leaves,
Skipping off to land on my skin
In hopes that they might absolve some of my sins too. 
Tracing two-tone backroads 
As though ancient arteries held answers to new heartbreaks
When they are so tightly bound to the old ones.  

Why can’t nights like this be more frequent?
When a new world is constructed by charity, 
Doomed to collapse by the following noon,
And we offer blurred yearning into the dark,
Feeling as though this would be forever,
Shocked when a wicked tomorrow comes
As if reality would not dare to mar its newly freshened facade,
Leaving the taste of copper and longing in the mouth.

Two kinds of souls but one street apart,
Lingering blurry looks into the night,
If only they could speak
And the thunder did not drown them out. 
If only they could see each other in the dark,
And the lightning had not blinded them.
If only they could know freedom,
But the storm has only built another prison,
Because thunder and rain cannot heal every transgression.