Futile

I could call upon the storm:
The wind, the piercing rain.
I could make a whirlwind form,
But I would do it all in vain.

I could call upon the sky:
Watch the flash as thunder plays.
I could raise the waters forest high;
But I couldn’t turn back all the days.

I can’t call upon the clock
To hide its face and yours;
Moments pass, each with a lock,
To shut all open doors.

And I could call upon your name
As a plea or as a chant for war,
But there’s nothing there for me to claim
Except a broken heart forevermore.