an old writer and his words

He had been standing there for hoursstaring into the heavens, the cloudsa foreboding shroud promising regeneration,promising rain, promising redemption.He said to the heavens, “I loved you once,”and an ominous wind replied, “youloved yourself, nothing else mattered.”He wanted to argue but the wind, too,abandoned him and the smell of lightninghe could not yet see assaulted him.He…